#now excuse me while i go scream into the void at how beautiful this is

[littlerequiem]

Recently got to commission the lovely and amazing @lucysarah-c for my first self-ship art and when I tell you I am obsessed... yeah. Every detail of this is just superb >//<

Go check out Lucy's art & writing, she's so talented <3

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #56 (part one)

Journal Entry #55 (part two) // STORY INDEX

Yuri

Hello everyone.

I feel like it's been forever since I've recorded an update, or since I've recorded a sensible one, at least.

I'm more than a little embarrassed that I ended up posting my last one. Sharing it hadn't been my original plan, and my only excuse is that I uploaded it in a moment of poor self-control. Maybe I just wanted someone to feel as sorry for me as I was feeling for myself, or perhaps I thought it'd make me feel better to scream into the proverbial void.

In any case, I'm sorry.

Am I feeling better? The answer to that is complicated.

I assume Victor has told you about my G-tube? Once I didn't have any more pain from the surgery and my incision began to heal, I really did start feeling better physically. I'm able to be up and around for several hours at a time on most days, and I'm getting some of my strength back.

I'm not supposed to do anything too strenuous until my incision is fully healed, but I can do light housekeeping tasks like dusting furniture, washing dishes, and folding laundry, and I can manage all my own personal care now. I can finally give my poor neglected skin and hair the attention they deserve, and as soon as I'm up to it, I'm going for the most expensive and luxurious spa day anyone could possibly imagine. Manicure, pedicure, therapeutic massage, aromatherapy bath, facial... everything. Victor's already teasing me about it, naturally, but I don't mind.

Once I came home from the hospital after my surgery, Victor and I both got used to our new routine in practically no time at all. I was worried that Victor would be upset and stressed by the whole thing, and perhaps he was for the first day or two, but he seemed to relax when he realized how well I was coping.

Honestly, I've surprised myself a little with that. In the hospital, the nurses taught both Victor and me everything about the use and care of my tube, and I think at that point we all assumed Victor would be helping me tend to it a majority of the time. But, as it happens, I've been doing it almost entirely on my own, and it's... liberating. Yes, that's definitely the word. It's empowering to take charge of something, even if it isn't particularly important to anyone but me.

Usually, I have my formula while Victor eats, so we still share mealtimes. I can still eat and drink the usual way, so we enjoy our tea together as well, and sometimes I'll even have a small bite of whatever Victor's having. He's not allowed to feed me any more, though. The rule is that if I want to taste some of his food, I have to feed myself.

That may have been the most difficult adjustment for both of us, actually. We were put to our first test only a couple of days after I got home, when Victor made himself a fruit salad to go with his sandwich at lunch.

If I had to pick a favourite food, strawberries and peaches would be tied for top spot, and I'll confess, it was the aroma of the freshly cut strawberries that got me. That, and watching Victor handle chopsticks with his non-dominant hand. He made it look so effortless, and I marvelled at how quickly he'd mastered using them with his right hand.

The only thing at the table more beautiful and appealing than those plump, red strawberries in my husband's fruit salad was my gorgeous, talented husband, and I couldn't take my eyes off either one.

"Maybe it's a good thing you're not eating," Victor commented. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at me, strawberry-laden chopsticks raised halfway to his mouth.

"What?" I stammered. "Why?"

"Because," he said. "You look so distracted, you'd probably drop half the stuff you tried to pick up."

"Oh. Sorry."

"You okay?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm just looking at your, ah... your strawberry."

Victor laughed out loud at that. "Mr. Okamoto-Nelson, are you trying to flirt with me?"

I could feel heat crawling up my neck and over my face. "Well, no. Not really. I'm literally looking at your strawberry. Could I... can I have it? Please?"

He flicked a glance down at the strawberry caught between his chopsticks, as if he was considering my request. Then he said, "Sure, you can have it," and reached across our tiny dining table toward me.

I started to lean forward out of habit, imagining he'd just pop the piece of fruit into my mouth. And then I remembered.

Victor must've realized at exactly the same time I did, because he abruptly drew his hand back. He dropped the strawberry onto the now-empty plate his sandwich had been on, and slid it across the table toward me with a murmur of, "Sorry."

The moment was jarring, and I almost changed my mind about eating the sweet fruit, but then I told myself that it wouldn't be polite to reject it after I specifically asked for it. I lifted my own chopsticks, thankful that Victor had the foresight to set out a pair for me, and plucked up the strawberry.

"You can do it," Victor said, his voice soft, as if I were engaged in some sort of contest and he didn't want to break my concentration.

I put the strawberry in my mouth, and I think I might've been close to tears with how intense the flavour was. I'm not sure why, but maybe it had something to do with not having performed the physical act of eating for well over a week. Without meaning to, I made a sound that was... Suffice it to say, it was the sort of sound Victor typically hears from me in a room other than the kitchen.

Victor was gazing at me with interest. "Okay, then. I guess you really were looking at my strawberry."

"Mm-hmm."

He pitched his voice low, and in a tone far too seductive for lunchtime on a Wednesday, asked, "Did you like it? Wanna do it again?"

I lost it, and my laughter must've been contagious because for the next minute or so, Victor and I could barely catch our breaths. My stomach was hurting by the time we both calmed down, but despite that, I felt good. Better than I'd felt in weeks, in fact. And I did eat another strawberry, which earned me a kiss from my husband who tasted slightly of strawberries too.

And before you ask, yes. 'Looking at one's strawberry' is now a playful inside joke between Victor and me, a euphemism for something entirely unrelated to fresh fruit.

Since then, I've eaten other foods, but for the most part I'm happier just to have my formula. The goal is for me to be able to eat normally and independently without the tube in the near future, but we're going to work up to that. For now, I only have to put food in my mouth when I'm comfortable doing so, which admittedly, isn't all that often. Honestly, it's been a huge relief not to have to worry about eating. It's taken an enormous load off me psychologically, which allows me to focus on other things.

There are plenty of other things to focus on. As relieved as I am not to have to struggle with food for the time being, my tube isn't a miracle cure for all my problems. There are still times when I don't want to do anything at all, even though I know I'm capable of it, and I still go to bed some nights vaguely hoping it'll be the last time.

When I feel that way, I tell Victor about it, and he does his best to reassure me. I didn’t want to talk about it with him at first, didn’t want to burden him, but I remembered what Mama had told me about keeping secrets. “A marriage can’t survive too many secrets,” she’d said, and I decided I needed to do my part to protect the bond Victor and I share, even if what I had to do would be hard.

It’s still not easy for me to open up about some subjects, but it’s getting somewhat less difficult with time and practice. I don’t think I could do it at all with anybody but Victor. He knows me better than anyone, and I trust him.

Oh… and since we’re on the subject of trust and sharing confidential information, I should probably finish telling you about my nutrition rehabilitation therapy, shouldn't I? In addition to working with the nutritionist and Dr. Kasongo, I've started seeing a psychologist, and believe me when I say that component of my therapy is not my idea of a good time.

There's no sense in mincing words; I hate it, and I don't think it's doing much good. Victor would likely say I need to give it a chance, considering that I've only been to two sessions with the psychologist so far, but I'm not certain I really want to.

As Victor might say, I'm not going to lie. I don't like the psychologist. He makes me uncomfortable and reminds me vaguely of my high school physical education teacher. That teacher was the sort of person who'd laugh and make fun of a student for not being able to catch a ball or for always finishing last in races instead of encouraging them and showing them how they could do better.

The psychologist gives off that same energy. I'm afraid to tell him my deepest thoughts. I don't trust him and I don't want to be judged by him for my anxiety and fear of something as inherent to life as eating. I'm not sure he'd even understand it anyway. Very few people do, but at least some try to, and those are the people I'd rather allow into my private life.

But, regardless of my feelings about the psychologist, I've resolved to keep seeing him because Victor really wants me to, and I don't want to disappoint him. It'll only be for a couple of months anyway, just until our move. I'm sure I can endure an hour a week with the man till then, and perhaps once Victor and I are settled in Willow Creek, I'll be able to find someone I actually like and who I might be able to build some trust with. I mean, I do understand the point of psychological therapy, and I might be willing to work at it if I thought I was being supported by someone who cares about my well-being.

If I could pick my ideal therapist, it wouldn't be a man. I'd choose a woman, preferably someone around my mother's age, and perhaps with a soft voice like hers as well. She'd be someone I could feel safe with, and who I might eventually start thinking of as an honorary auntie, if that makes sense. I don't think that's too high an expectation, do you?

But, enough about that. Besides my ongoing health issues, a lot has happened since the last time I was able to record a journal entry, and I'm not even sure where to start describing it all. I know Victor has been keeping our journal up-to-date, so perhaps I'll just hit the high points of what's been going on since his last entry.

I suppose the most significant bit of news is that Victor and I are officially uncles. Our nephew Kinai was born a week ago, on the fourteenth of March. He entered the world eight days past his due date, for anyone who cares about that sort of thing, and according to my mother, he's a very big newborn at 4.1 kilograms. Apparently, that's nearly three times as big as me when I was born. Mama says I was only 1.4 kilograms, which probably isn't all that surprising, considering I arrived dangerously early. She used words like 'solid' and 'thriving' to describe Kinai, which I'm sure are descriptors that never would've been applied to me during my first days of life. I was probably 'fragile' and 'high-risk'.

Personally, I couldn't care less how much Kinai weighs, how chunky he is, or whether he's got Hana's nose or Ren's ears. My plan is to stay as uninvolved as possible. If you want the truth, I'm quite literally repulsed by anything that has to do with my sister Hana and her deplorable boyfriend Ren, and although I know it's not Kinai's fault that he has monsters for parents, I really don't have any interest in interacting with him in any case.

Victor knows how I feel, but we only talked about it once because I don't think it'd be very nice of me to keep bringing it up and dampening his enthusiasm. He's thrilled about being an uncle, and I love seeing how excited and happy he is. I don't want to take that joy away from him.

Victor has already been to my parents' house to meet Kinai, and I think he fell in love with him at first sight. My parents are absolutely smitten with their grandson too, and I'm sure I don't have to tell you how Auntie Yuki is taking the situation. She's positively over the moon.

As for Hana, she was quick to flee as soon as she got out of the hospital. Initially, we thought she might try to cause trouble over Mama and Papa's intention to seek an order for custody of Kinai, but she shocked us all when she said it didn't matter to her who took him, as long as she didn't have to deal with it. Our parents had already engaged a lawyer, and she was able to draw up some sort of document for Hana and Ren to sign that effectively stated they relinquished all custodial rights to Kinai. I don't think Mama and Papa even needed to go to court at all.

According to Yuki, our resident source of family gossip, Ren's parents didn't object to our parents getting custody of Kinai. I figured it was because the judge and his wife are quite a bit older than Mama and Papa and they didn't want to take on the responsibility of raising another child at this point in their lives, but Yuki had a completely different theory.

"Know what I think, Yuri?" she asked. There was a conspiratorial little gleam in her eyes that can only be produced by a precocious ten and a half year old who thinks she's more clever than most of the adults around her.

Our parents had dropped Yuki off earlier that day, to have dinner and spend the night at our place. She was standing on a step-stool at the counter, watching me prepare my formula, while Victor was at the other side of our small kitchen cutting up chicken and vegetables to make stir-fry for her and himself.

"What do you think?" I responded.

"I think Ren's parents didn't want Kinai because they don't really believe he's their grandson," she said.

That was an angle that hadn't occurred to me. It obviously hadn't occurred to Victor either, because he set his knife down and turned in our direction. "What makes you think that, Yuki-chan?" he asked.

"Because," Yuki said. "I overheard Papa talking to Ren's father about a DNA test. I watch television. I know what DNA tests are for. And I know for sure it was Ren's father Papa was taking to because he called him by name."

"So, you think your dad wants Ren and Kinai to have a DNA test to prove whether they're related or not?" Victor said. "You think Judge Kitagawa's gonna go for that?"

"I think it was the judge's idea," said Yuki. "I think he wants to make Ren do it."

"Talk about legal drama," Victor said.

I don't think there'll be much legal drama on that front. If the judge is serious about wanting to prove Kinai's paternity, Ren isn't going to have much say in the matter. I'm not closely acquainted with Nori Kitagawa, but I do know him well enough to say with confidence that I wouldn't dare to disobey an order from him. Ren may be thuggish and stupid, but even he isn't dumb enough to contradict the judge when he means business. Plus, Ren can't run or hide from him now.

If anyone were to ask me, I think the real legal battle might come from that American couple with whom Hana and Ren had been trying to arrange the so-called private adoption. Yes, the people who wanted to name the baby Arrow. I'm sure Victor has told you all about that. Of course, it's just speculation on my part. I have no idea how the American family might react. We'll have to wait and see.

I may not know anything for certain about my parents' potential legal troubles, but something I can tell you about is the tangled mess Hana is in. The judge was not inclined to be dismissive when it came to the theft of his vehicle and credit cards and his wife's expensive jewellery, nor was Uncle Kaz well pleased about Hana breaking into the home Victor and I have been renting from him. It's no secret that Mama and Papa are making her take full responsibility for her actions, and that they aren't going to try to pull any strings on her behalf. We all know that taking responsibility isn't something Hana excels at, and I think she ran because she's ashamed to face any of them.

Currently, none of us knows where she is. It's safe to assume she hasn't left Japan because the police still have her passport, as far as I know, but she's definitely not anywhere in the town of Mt. Komorebi. She's got a handful of serious criminal charges against her now, and my guess is that she's with friends in Kyoto, probably trying to concoct some sort of scheme to get out of the legal nightmare she's created for herself.

Before I move on from the judicial updates, there's even more news that I'd be remiss if I didn't mention. We may not know Hana's whereabouts, but I'm able to say with satisfaction that we know where Ren Kitagawa is. He is in jail, which in my opinion is exactly where he belongs.

Ren's trial for assaulting Victor at the fitness centre was supposed to have started on the twenty-eighth of February, but due to Victor's accident and our concerns that he wouldn't be well enough to go to court and testify by then, the court agreed to push the trial date forward until the first week of May. We agreed because we really didn't have much choice, but that date gave Victor and me just as much anxiety as the February one did. We're leaving the country on the fifteenth of May and we were worried that any further complications in the process would interfere with our move.

In the end, fortune must've been on our side. The very day in February that the trial was originally scheduled to begin, Victor received a phone call from someone at the office of Kensatsu-chō — the public prosecution service — who told him that Ren had decided to change his plea to guilty. They explained that the matter would proceed directly to sentencing, which was scheduled for the tenth of March, and they asked if Victor and I wanted to be there. Victor told them no. Neither of us had any desire to make a trip to the district court in Kyoto for that.

We found out later that Ren was sentenced to eighteen months' imprisonment. Papa speculated that he probably won't serve the entire time in a jail cell, but that he'll be let out about a third of the way through and then spend the rest of the time on supervised release. From what I understand, that's basically house arrest. At this point, though, I don't even care. Victor and I will be long gone before he gets out, and we'll be far enough away that he'll never be able to hurt either of us again.

I thought I'd have a completely different set of emotions upon learning that Ren is locked up and being punished for what he did. I imagined I'd feel vindicated, that I'd be happy and excited and in a mood to celebrate, but that's not how it was at all. The moment we hung up from that phone call, I just clung to Victor and cried because I was so relieved.

All I remember about the following few minutes was Victor holding me as tightly as he could with his one good arm and murmuring into my hair, "It's all right, Yuri. The worst is over. We're going to be okay."

I might not have been able to believe that before, but each day I'm finding myself a little more hopeful that the worst really is over. I don't expect my life to be perfect, or even what most people would call normal, but I'll happily settle for being okay.

[venus-vermillion01]

Eternal Rest (Series. Ryomen x Reader ) Chapter 1: Lamp post

Author’s Note: Hey yall! This is my first chapter to my series, please excuse the edits, it was a draft but I got lazy on editing it properly. :D. Either way I hope yall enjoy this journey and I hope this series will last long. I post pretty slow but I will do my best to make it consistent as possible. 

Summary:From the Feudal era and since the beggining, it was always known that the King of Curses roamed the land, tormenting the many and causing destruction. For where ever he went there was always a mysterious curse being by his side, his right hand, queen and mother of curses (YN) (L/N). It was all perfect in her eyes till a certain promiscuous human slithered into her King’s eyes. Why did things go so terribly wrong? So wrong that it was worth ripping her heart out? Reincarnation, shall commence. 

The fresh breeze followed by the scattering of falling leaves felt strangely serene. Ahh yes this memory. For once Sukuna didn't have to worry about those pestering sorcerers as he lazily laid on the wooden floor, gazing at the female curse in front of him. She sat in front of him as he watched her fingers meticulously clean their weapons of blood, noticeably taking more time on his than her own. 

It was moments like this he wished would last much longer. Now looking back, he never did appreciate the beauty she held. Her figure, her hair, intricate symbols that were covered by the dark green yukata she repeatedly wore. It was a gift from him after he noticed her old one was worn out. He was too infatuated with a human to notice your loving gazes and devotion to him. A human woman who in the end would prove to be disloyal. A human that held no actual value when being compared to a being such as themselves.  

If he could turn back the clock he would, yet that is in the past now. A curse like himself cannot be riddled with guilt. In the end he suffered the consequences of his actions, now forced to spend eternity alone, reminiscing of the past was all that was keeping him from going insane. He laughed at the notion. To be cursed by insanity. 

“Forever till the end my king,” her soothing voice instantly drew his attention. 

He saw her lips morph into a smile and eyes shine with genuine content at the declaration. Her promise. He reached out to touch her, just to feel some semblance of her warmth against his fingers would satisfy his hunger.

My queen, he thought as his finger tips barely grazed the sleeve of her dress, it all instantly disappeared into smoke. The illusion was broken. 

He scoffed in annoyance as he sat on his bony throne, trapped within his innate domain in the body of his vessel. 

“Wait my love. I will find you,”he mumbled out. 

“What was that Sukuna?” Yuji asked. 

“Shut it!” 

For some strange reason, time felt as if it slowed down. Trickling densely like an hourglass as you felt the ice cold liquid overpower your senses. It felt shocking. Floating in a void. 

It’s black, everything around you except for the strange dimly lighted surface emitting a sickly green. 

How long have I been here? Seconds. A heart wrenching pain bloomed in your chest, you gasped only allowing the strange water to flood your mouth.

No it hasn’t, it’s been years. 

You screamed in agony, only for it to be muffled by the water.  

Tears rolled down your eyes, blending into the black water. His smile, his face, and those prominent black symbols.  

His hand, covered in thick black liquid holding a glowing crystal. Fragments of memories that come and go, haunting you endlessly. Reminding you were such a fool back then. 

Why me? 

…

“ Wake up, wake up,” a girl's voice woke you up as she gently shook your shoulder. 

You groaned as you lifted your head from the desk, feeling like your head was full of cotton.

. “ You were pretty out of it. Didn’t you sleep well?” your friend, Mayu, asked. 

You didn’t answer while still waking from that dream. Was it even a dream, it felt way too real. A chill ran up your spine just thinking about that black endless void. 

“Come on, it’s getting late and I think we studied long enough,” Mayu suggested with a bright smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s just I keep on having,” 

“ The same dream,” Mayu finished your sentence. 

You nodded your head in confirmation as you gathered your stationary and followed her to the doorway. 

“I think your just over stressing about stuff. Dreams tend to show our deepest troubles, wishes,” she said with certainty. It didn’t settle right with you. “Or they can be memories of a past life, I’m telling you Mai that they feel too real. It almost feels like an out of body experience,” you explained, your eyebrows pinched together as you recalled that chilling snippet of the dream. You were so lost in thought , Mayu suddenly pulled your jacket back to stop you from walking into the bustling street.

“ Aren’t you paying attention? Be careful please,”she said concerned.

Mayu instantly caught onto your hints of discomfort and unusual aloofness. she’s known you forever and she’s known you to be strong, carefree and not little things bother you. So to see you being plagued by this worried her. 

“Tell me about it then,” 

“What?” you deadpanned, not because you weren’t paying attention but it came to you that you never really explained the content of your dream clearly to Mai. 

“Yes, I want to know, maybe I can help you decipher it and we can find the root of the problem together,” Mai Suggested. 

You could t help but smile. “Oh Mai, what would I do without you?” You joked. “I don’t know, probably get lost,” she snickered. You both giggled as you two hopped onto the train, taking two empty seats near the doorway.

  “So in my dream sometimes I can see myself, but it’s not really me, I think. I look … older, different and I’m sad,” explaining it out loud just made it sound like any other dream , but you purposefully left out some of the details. “ Do you feel sad? In your dream?” 

“No…” pondering on how exactly to describe it. “I feel “her” sadness, like it’s just amplified around her or me … look all know is that I’m underwater in this black river with green pool lights and then that’s not the weirdest part?” You quickly explained. 

Mai gave you a curious look. “What’s the weirdest part?” 

As you were to answer, the chimes rang through the intercom signaling your stop. 

“Tell me tomorrow, first thing in the morning,” Mai said as you walked onto the platform. 

“I will. Get home safe,” you called out, waving her goodbye as the train doors closed. 

A strange prickling sensation came over your head making you wince. “ Man what is up with me these days,” you said to yourself, trudging up the dirty subway stairs onto the familiar streets you used to get home. 

You made your trek around the crowded streets, passing delicious food vendors, the smoke and the illuminating fluorescent lights that the arcades gave off. The same tv store you passed every day caught your attention. Standing in front of the display window with many bright screens were on the same news channel. “On today's news, officers have reported to have found another body of a young girl within the district. This is the second case of a missing person found dead within the last 3 days. Officers say that the culprit seems to be targeting young adolescent girls and young women. It is advised that all should avoid staying out late and stay within crowded public areas. Detectives have described the e,” the news reporter was abruptly interrupted by some static interference.  Despite the strange chill you got, you continued moving forward.

“What’s the weirdest part?” Mais voices echoed in your head. Well the fact that when you watch from afar, older you have pretty black tattoos across your face, not to mention that your hair is white as snow. A far cry from your ( h/c) . And you're wearing a torn kimono, revealing a portion of your chest… a gaping hole where your heart should be. 

Your stomach twisted as you can still her yells and cries for help. Maybe that’s my future, that thought made your heart stop for a moment. “ What am I thinking ? Why do I do this to myself ?” Think happy thoughts like Tokyo and what are you going to cook for dinner? Putting a little hop into your step to trick yourself into a better mood. Now that you think of it, your dreams started when you encountered that pink haired boy a couple of months ago. 

The lights of the lamp post brightened the park path, until you reached a certain point. They were dead , leaving one side completely illuminated and the other dark. That prickling feeling shot through your head and you noticed something, it was absolutely quiet, no clicks from grasshoppers or birds chirping. The sound of rushing cars from the streets behind you have eerily  disappeared. 

Your feet felt like lead as your heart rapidly beat against your chest. Something isn’t right. The bleak obsidian forest felt ominous, it even felt like the shadows were getting darker and growing? 

What did that news lady say again,“Stay within crowded public areas.” 

Your instincts told you better, you turned on your heel to walk back. 

Then that sensation of needles amplified and the once warm outside felt like it dropped in temperature. Your heart sank as you heard a whisper behind you. Your throat felt closed and you were stuck in place,frozen by the unknown presence behind you. “Okasan,” it whispered once more but this time it tickled your ear. 

There was no time to scream as you were pulled into the dark shadows . There was none of your belongings  left behind on the path as if nothing happened . 

... 

A bright blue light appeared at the surface, a startling contrast that wasn’t you haven’t seen before. It beckoned you to come for it. “Okasan,” you can faintly hear. Unconsciously, you reached for it. 

…

It all happened so fast, it was unfathomable leaving you gasping, streams of tears across your face as you felt a strange object being shoved down your windpipe. 

Your mouth was pried open by something you only see in nightmares. Your strength was nothing compared to this thing, using all your might to push its nimbly hand away from your face but to no avail. Whatever little crystal it placed into your mouth, you refused to swallow. The creature was already one step ahead, clamping your mouth shut and covering your nose with the other. 

In the distance you can hear havoc and growls, people yelling. 

Suffocating, the impending pain and exhaustion were high, and your resolve was depleting. The sound of growls, tremors were slowly being drowned out. Why is this happening to me? Did I ever do something to deserve this?

The little crystal felt uncomfortable as it traveled down your throat. An electrifying sensation traveled through your body as spots speckled your sight, and your surroundings began to cave in. 

… 

 A melodious, mischievous laugh echoed as you drifted, children's laughter. Oh how you missed them. 

A bright blue light appeared at the surface, a startling contrast that you haven’t seen before. It beckoned you to come for it. “Okasan,” you can faintly hear. Unconsciously you reached for it just the bright light blinded your sight. Your peripheral vision caught a glimpse of someone as you were being pulled into the light while they were being dragged into your abyss. 

…

Pain. That’s all you can process as a blood curdling scream escapes your lungs, coughing and gasping for air after coming out of that purgatory state. 

“It's time to wake up, mother ,” an all too familiar voice gently spoke followed by a small whine . As your vision cleared the first thing you are greeted with is the spindly long figure curse you knew all too well. How could you forget those adoring gold eyes and the lopsided jagged smile he presented you with, he is your son after all. Tears continued to seep out of your eyes, as the pain slowly diminished and relief blossomed instead.

 “Strife,” you said in affirmation as he gently placed you on your feet. It was all clear to you now, the lights of tall buildings, the strange noises that filled the air and the clothing you wore. 

“I’ve been reincarnated,” you said as you looked into the cloudy night sky. The feeling of the breeze hit you, it felt sweet to be in the open once again, spreading your arms as if to embrace the sky. Gently twirling in it like if you were dancing with it.  

A laugh bubbles within your throat, you couldn’t help it. 

“Finally I am free from my imprisonment!!” You yelled into the air, a smile plagued by insanity drawn across your face. Basking in the light was exhilarating, the air against your warm skin.

 “Oh how I missed the human realm,” you spoke soothingly to Strife as you gently caressed his large face. Setting your forehead to touch his, “ And now that I am here, we have to find the others,” 

Strife let out a low hum in approval. “Mother, there is something you must know before we look for the others,” he said. 

“ And what is that?”  

“The sorcerer’s will come for you,”Strife said as a snarl escaped his mouth.

“Mhhhh, I figured as much. Do you have anything in mind?” 

Strife eyebrows knitted as he thought, a smile fell across your face. Just like always. Thinking about everything. 

One moment everything was like the old days until you noticed his long ears perked up, twitching immediately sending him to put a defensive stance in front of you. “ What is wrong?” 

“THAT cursed user is here,” he hissed while his black fur began to stand on its ends. Whoever this sorcerer must be strong, in other words will be a nuisance to you. A sigh left your mouth. “And I just woke up.”you whined.

.“Mhhhh, then do what you have to do?” you said. Seeing Strife's mischievous grin only meant one thing, you weren’t going to like it. 

... 

Sukuna continued to ignore the bickering between the brat and his friends. Discussing another case of a potential curse causing the death of humans. He closed his eyes and attempted to return to his memories. His eyes shot open when he felt a ripple of curse energy, again. This is the second time. The first time it occurred a few months ago followed a smaller wave, it slightly drew his attention even as he resided within the brats body, he chose to ignore it. It was nothing compared to his power yet he couldn’t shake the strange familiarity that curse energy brought, it was like he had forgotten someone’s name but couldn’t recall who it was. It didn’t matter to him in the end as he had no need for such miscellaneous things. 

That was until the second ripple occurred shortly after dark. Unlike the first one, it held more energy causing Yuji and Kugisaki to stop whatever they were doing. It was heavy with malice and expanded much farther, warning other smaller curses to leave. An energy dense similar to his own. It couldn’t be, no. A rush of excitement enthralled him as a wicked smile crept onto Sukuna’s face. He could practically taste the  distinct aura, bitter yet sweet just as he remembered. It took every ounce of self control not to burst into laughter as he pinpointed what district the curse energy was coming from. It was all making sense now. Don’t worry, my love. Soon we will be reunited.

[bored-storyteller]

Hello! I remember you said you could write for Sally Face even though it's not on your list (if I dreamed of it, excuse me 🙏), since you still look like you're in the fandom... How about the #4 of the prompt list with Sally Face? If you do not write for him I apologize 😭

Hello dear Anon! Yes, Sally Face maybe is the video game I'm most fond of, I can write for him, I just don't always feel like making the requests that come to me about this game. But don't worry! Asking is always fine! Thanks for the request!

P.s. This is more fluff than angst I think, I apologize, is that there is already a lot of angst for him

73- Sally Face, Sal Fisher x Reader

From the prompt list

4- “Do you know what it’s like?”

Gizmo's purr lazily fills the silence in the room, the big cat is taking his ration of free pampering perched in your boyfriend's lap.

His fingers glide absently on the white and tawny fur of the half-asleep feline, while behind his mask you catch nothing but an absent gaze directed at the void between his knees.

By now that beautiful sky-colored eye of his communicates with you without the need for words, and you see how much it seems dull and lost, so much so that it appears almost glass like the one on the right.

Sal is always so sweet and so strong. He has so much weight on his shoulders, yet you always see him accepting everyone else's too. He never complains, he doesn't fidget, and he doesn't scream, not even when he gets angry, and if he does he apologizes as if he's at fault.

You love him, you really love him. You feel it in your guts, especially now, that he is like this.

You don't really know what's troubling him, yet you see how sad he is. His shoulders are bent slightly forward, and his blue hair slips free, covering even more of his usual mask.

Even though you know you are free with him, you are terribly afraid of hurting him. You're afraid of saying something too much, something he doesn't deserve.

As you leave the book you were reading by your side, you try to remember when Sal began to wither.

You noticed it after the last outing you did with the others, but you have no idea if those thoughts that seem to be spinning in his head were already floating around before, and you curse yourself for being so inattentive towards him.

"Give me space Gizmo" you mutter with a playful pout, picking up the lazy cat to move it a little further "I want the cuddles too."

Sal just cooes as his hands remain motionless, letting you nestle your head in his lap.

Once you are comfortable in your new nest, his fingers gently touch your forehead, while you are busy trying to come to terms with the big cat who insists on trying to stay on his master's lap too, at the cost to sit on your face.

“Come on Gizmo. Let me be a little jealous every now and then. " You snort, pushing the royal furry butt away from your nose.

"Are you jealous?" Sal's question is surmounted by the meow of the fake tiger who decides to snuggle in the hollow between your shoulder and your neck.

Your eyes roll up into his gaze and for a moment you don't know how to read that question. You feel him terribly serious, and in a way, you don't know where he is going.

"Yes ... I'm jealous of you ... that is ... is it normal I think?" You know that sincerity is always the best choice with him, but you still bite your tongue, wondering if you are giving the wrong idea.

His caresses have stopped while he silently looks at you, and you don't know what he's thinking, you don't know if you've unknowingly touched a nerve or if you just added a new thought to him.

"Why?" His question comes out as a surrendered sigh "You have no reason ... I say ... it is you who can make others love you, not me."

His words take your breath away for a moment.

"What are you saying…?" You murmur, as you raise a hand to touch his turquoise locks "you know how to make yourself loved even by those who don't even know how to love ..." you whisper softly, yet you don't seem to convince him.

His sigh becomes more impressive in the rumble of his mask, and you look at him patiently, while his hands undo the hooks that block it to his face.

Few people know what lies behind that prosthesis, and it hardly ever happens that he leaves himself so spontaneously in the sight of others. It's because it's you, you know, and it flatters you, yet something so immediate still surprises you.

You believe that his face is something magical, because no matter how grotesque it is, how almost you could say that there is no face, but you love it, you loved it from the first moment you saw it. Maybe because you were already in love with him.

"You were beautiful that night." His words still confuse you, and you force yourself to accept the idea of having entered a minefield. So you were right, was it your last outing that upset him?

"Sal ..." you get up, and now even Gizmo has realized he has to leave space for you, moving to the next pillow.

He doesn't look at you, his eyes are closed, but he continues to keep himself completely exposed to you.

"I really mean it. You are always beautiful to me, but that night ... that night you felt beautiful too, didn't you? You were, you really were, and ... "his shoulders give way a little further forward, as if he were about to collapse under an invisible weight. "And if you hadn't been with me, someone would have come to you. Maybe he would have offered you a drink and then ... "

Your lips part for a few seconds, looking for something to say, but you really don't know what ground you're walking on.

"I'm not really beautiful Sal, I'm just-"

"A normal person. What else do you want?" His abrupt interruption silences you.

In a moment his eye is on you again, alarmed: “Sorry. I'm so sorry. Forgive me, I didn't mean to be bad. "He whispers softly.

Sal Fisher, always so attentive to others even in his moments of despair.

"Only that ... you ... do you know what it’s like? To be like that…"

His voice just trembles, and you forget to breathe. You would like to remove all doubts and insecurities from him, but you cannot do it.

"No ... no Sal, I don't know ..."

"That's okay ..." he murmurs, trying to console the guilt of your tone "I don't know what it is like to be you either, but ... it can't be so pleasant to kiss bare teeth ... right? It must not be pleasant to feel this dead flesh against your skin, and it must not be pleasant to wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare and find this monster a few inches from your face ... I just think ... I just think you should know that you can certainly find someone else ... someone else other than me. "

You have always admired him, also for all the strength he has to live with that weight - one of many - that he carries with him. Perhaps subconsciously he has always found a way to make his flaws simply characteristics, his style. With or without his ponytails, Sal was always recognizable and, in a sense, charismatic.

But you know that even if he is so strong, so resilient, the weight does not disappear.

"Sally Face ..." you murmur softly, as you move your legs to be able to sit astride his lap.

"You know ... I've always looked for many things from life." Your fingers casually play with his tufts of hair "And I swear to you I never thought I'd find what's really essential to me right here."

Your palms rest gently on his rib cage as his slowly brush your hips.

"You might find someone different from me too, Sally Face, but I don't want you to, please." You just smile "Also because ... after a nightmare you are the first thing I look for, and when I find you ..." leaning forward you are greeted by the loving arms of your boyfriend, while you take refuge in his chest, snuggling up to his heart "I do this, and I stay listening to you until I fall asleep again. When you sleep peacefully you never notice, but you always welcome me. "

Curled up there on his chest like now, you have no idea what's in Sal's eyes. All you see are a few blue locks of him falling over your cheeks, while he lets you relax under his chin.

His silence leaves you on alert, and even if you don't move, you look for any clues that might tell you something about his emotions.

A slight tremor in his chest and a restrained sob from him make your heart tremble, but his slowly calming beat just makes you snuggle closer to his body.

"I-" he starts off lightly, but then stops immediately, and when he resumes, you're sure he's changed the subject, but it doesn't matter anymore. "Am I such a heavy sleeper?" He asks, with a shivering chuckle amid the slight gasps of silent tears.

You laugh lightly as you lift yourself up to look at him. In your hands, his cheeks are rough and wet, but even as tears flow from his eyes, he doesn't look agitated or hurt.

"Well, you recover the sleep that all your nightmares take away from you."

Your fingers slide gently under his eyelids to collect his tears. You don't ask him why he cries; you know that in his chest he has a reservoir where he keeps all his emotions and, every now and then, they pretend to come out.

"Wake me up next time you have a nightmare, you're always there when I have mine."

You smile softly as you rest your forehead against him. You wouldn't change him for the world.

"For once, let me take care of you Sal."

His sigh hits your nose as he snuggles a little more against you. Calmly it seems that he can channel his emotions into a single torrent.

"Take care of me?" He murmurs against your lips “How about picking up the phone and ordering a pizza for the two of us? It would make me very, very happy. "

Your cheerful laugh fills the room, while your lips touch what remains of his: "And the ice cream?"

"And the ice cream." He confirms as he accepts your sweet kiss.

There seems to be a long night of pampering with Sal and Gizmo ahead of you, what more could you ask for?

You gently kiss his cheek one last time, before getting up in search of the device to order your dinner.

"Hey ..." before you're too far away, your hand is lovingly held by Sal's "I don't want anyone else next to me."

Your eyes dive into him for a moment, and what you find is nothing but a clear and sincere sky that takes your breath away every time it lands on you.

"Me neither. I wouldn't want anyone else even for a single day of my existence. "

[bumbleklee]

philocaly (kaeya x reader)

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | discord server

★ ironically this came to me in a dream last night lol. it’s also 4 in the morning so please excuse anything that makes no sense <3

★ summary: you have the worst nightmare of your life but thankfully kaeya is there to calm you down

★ content warning: there’s a very quick, very vague sex scene that isn’t detailed at all but just so everyone knows. major angst but also major comfort so do with that what you will. also reader was written as female but its pretty vague so feel free to imagine them as whoever you want

philocaly

(n) the love of beauty 

The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was the intoxicating smell of gasoline that surrounded you. Your body felt sticky and wet and it didn’t take long for you to realize you were drenched in petroleum. You felt dazed and when you tried to look around, your eyesight blurred and you stared into a cloudy abyss.

A voice began speaking and you jolted up, trying to find the source only to find absolutely nothing. You didn’t even know if you were sitting in a chair.

“So naive…”

Your breath caught in your throat when you recognized the voice as Kaeya’s. But your mouth wasn’t moving. You thrashed around but it was like your arms were being held down by invisible bonds.

“Don’t panic, pretty,” Kaeya said. His voice echoed around the room and finally the clouds started to dissipate. Your beloved boyfriend stood feet away from you, wearing a brilliant white tuxedo. “We’re just going to talk. For now.”

Out of thin air, Kaeya pulled a chair in front of you. He sat down in it backwards, leaning his head on his arms. He had his signature smile on his face but his eyes were dull and emotionless. Suddenly your feet hit something hard and you glanced down, seeing a polished wooden floor beneath your shoes.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Kaeya purred, looking at you in a way that made you shiver, “Do you really think you amount to anything in this world?”

His words stunned you. What was going on? You gaped your mouth to speak but no words came out. You didn’t know what to say.

“It would solve a lot of problems if we just got rid of you right now, don’t you think? I would finally be free to find someone worth my time and the rest of Mondstadt would be happy to have such a burden lifted.”

You felt like your throat was on fire. You couldn’t believe Kaeya was saying these things to you but he really was. Tears streamed down your face and you sharply inhaled, your chest aching in pain. You prayed that this was some sick joke.

The gasoline that was poured on your head before started to run down your face, sliding between your eyes and burning your nostrils when you breathed.

“You’re crying now? How pathetic,” Kaeya laughed. He shoved his hand into the pocket of the tuxedo jacket and pulled out a pack of matches. Your eyes widened and you felt yourself stop breathing momentarily. He hummed casually and stood up from the chair, “I can’t wait to find someone so much better.”

You tried to scream, defend yourself, but no sounds came out. It was like your voice box had been ripped away. Your eyesight was blurry again from your tears but you couldn’t even wipe them away. A gloved hand reached out and gripped your jaw, pulling your face upwards. Kaeya was in front of you now, his eyes even more sadistic than before. He cocked his head at you and rubbed his thumb along your bottom lip.

“You always had such an ugly face.”

And with that, Kaeya ripped his hand away and lit a match. He threw it at you carelessly and turned on his heel. As soon as the tiny flame touched the gasoline, it was like an explosion. The flames crawled up your legs and surrounded your body. You had never felt this kind of pain before and it was unbearable. Once again, you tried to scream but only silent heaves escaped your throat. The last thing you saw was Kaeya’s long ponytail being thrown over his shoulder before the flames consumed you.

You shot up in bed, your hands clutching your nightgown like never before. You heaved and erratically inhaled, trying to catch your breath. While you couldn’t feel the flames anymore, in that moment they felt so real. Never before had you had such a horrendous nightmare and you didn’t know how to handle it.

Kaeya’s words rang through your head over and over again. You couldn’t stop the tears falling from your eyes, only this time you could reach up and wipe them away. Hands crawled up your shoulders and Kaeya, the real one, rubbed them slowly.

“You’re drenched in sweat, Princess,” He mumbled, “What happened?”

Your blood grew cold as your dream replayed. You choked back a sob and managed to twist your body so you were facing Kaeya. “I’m okay,” You lied, your voice hoarse and quiet, “I’m just a little shaken up.” Kaeya raised an eyebrow at you. He had seen you shaken up before and it was never this extreme. He opened his mouth to speak but you surged forward, pressing your lips against his. “I want to do it. Right now.”

“What?” Kaeya mumbled between desperate, rough kisses. Normally he wouldn’t be opposed to a spontaneous midnight session but you were clearly in distress.

“Please,” Your voice cracked. You needed to be intimate with Kaeya right now, you needed to feel his body flush against yours. You needed to know that he still wanted you.

Kaeya only nodded and let you push him back onto the bed. You inhaled sharply again and rubbed your cheeks. You slung a leg over Kaeya and wasted no time in kissing down his neck. You placed wet kisses on his skin and Kaeya’s hands grazed your hips. If this was going to make you feel better right now, then he would do anything you wanted.

You inched backwards so your crotch was over Kaeya’s and you pulled down his pants quickly. He was still soft but you didn’t care, lifting up your nightgown and lowering yourself onto Kaeya. He didn’t make his usual sound of pleasure when he entered you but you paid no mind, placing your hands flat on Kaeya’s stomach so you could move your hips and back forth. Your movement was erratic and, honestly, didn’t feel good at all but you needed this intimacy now.

When you and Kaeya made love, it was gentle and sensual. He treated you like glass and his touches made you feel like you were on cloud nine. But this didn’t feel right. You weren’t feeling loved and beautiful this time. You could only think about what Kaeya said in your dream and maybe he was right.

You started crying again and Kaeya’s heart ached. He hated seeing you like this and he knew that having sex wasn’t what you needed right now.

“Alright, we’re done,” Kaeya said softly. His hands tried to lift you off of him but you only ground your hips down and let out a sob.

“No!” You cried, “We have to finish. We have to.”

“No, we don’t,” Kaeya countered. He suddenly overpowered you, lifting your hips off his and moving you beside him in bed. He pulled his pants back up and pulled your nightgown back down. This time, Kaeya leaned over you and boxed your head in with his arms so you couldn’t roll away. “Tell me what happened.”

At this, your cries turned into uncontrollable sobs. You couldn’t breathe and inaudible words floated out of your mouth. You tried to explain your dream but your wails only drowned it out. Kaeya waited patiently for you to stop crying. He hated seeing you cry but knew you needed this and wasn’t going to push you to stop anytime soon.

He stayed perfectly still until your sobs eventually died out. You were still a teary, sniffling mess but at least you could form coherent sentences now. You shakily explained your dream, repeating what was said to you by the love of your life. Kaeya listened and felt sick. His nose brushed against yours.

“None of that is true,” Kaeya said firmly. His eyes stared intensely into yours and your bottom lip quivered again, “You know that, right?”

“I’m so in love with you,” You started, “So in love that a nightmare about you not loving me is more painful than getting stabbed fifty times. I want to be enough for you.”

“You are enough for me.”

Kaeya’s hands brushed through your hair gently, his thumbs rubbing circles in your temple. Your eyes felt heavy and stung from your hysteria. You snaked your arms around Kaeya’s waist and managed to maneuver your bodies so you were both lying on your sides. Kaeya pulled you close to him and you found solace in the crook of his neck. Kaeya pressed soft, warm kisses all over your face and kissed away the rest of your tears.

“I love you, too,” He whispered.

Your eyes fluttered closed and Kaeya waited until your breathing was normal again to close his own. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together and in that moment you realized that this was the intimacy you were longing for so deeply. Your dream that night would haunt you probably for the rest of your life but as long as you could bring yourself back to reality, back to Kaeya, you would be okay.

Kaeya pressed a final kiss to your temple and spoke one last time before sleep overcame you both. Quoting your favorite book Kaeya said, “I’m in love with you, and I know that love in just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

a/n: did i just quote tfios? yes <3

[wh0reforoldmen]

Angel in blue jeans

Paring: Gabriel X Fem!reader

Warnings: angst, murder, chuck, fluff

Word count: 1,239

Plot: Gabriel knew you from millenniums ago, he hasn't seen you since God killed you.

Season plot: season five episode eight: changing channels.

Inspired by Angel in blue Jeans by Train

"What a beautiful sunrise" Gabriel mumbled under his breath, a giggle appearing behind him. "thought I'll find you here" The soft voice of his angel behind him, coming to sit next to him.

"You and God got into an argument again?" You ask, taking a seat next to him and looking out into the golden pink sunset.

The clouds fogged up the sun while the sun shone through them, the pink and golden sky fading into a beautiful dark navy blue while the faint bright light stars filled the void. The moon not appearing yet.

"Yeah, about you." He started, not looking at you as he explained "He called you...terrible names, I couldn't sit there and let him so I yelled at him. Called him a 'poor excuse for a father' and came here"

You wrapped an arm around your lover and comforted him silently, rubbing his back as his head rested on your shoulder "He told me I should stop the relationship, but I can't... I love you and nothing can change that." Your eyes filled with tears as he spoke, this is what love feels like. Someone to care for you. "I love you too Gabe.' you responded.

"Sugar?" Gabriel called, walking into his lovers bedroom. He heard the rumours, they were rumors after all. But everyone was talking about it. There you were, blood still poring out your neck and there God was...his own father and his brother, Michael.

"What have you done?" He screamed at the two, running towards the corpse, quickly healing the wound and waiting for your eyes to open. Your beautiful coloured eyes, they shine bright in the light and light up with pure joy when you see him.

"Hey, cupcake...wake up" he spoke softly, gently tapping your face waiting to see those eyes.

Nothing

Tears flooded his eyes, his hands curling into a ball of rage. You were gone. It was his fault, he should've been there way before his family got here. "Gabriel..." Castiel, the raspy voice surprised him "you know the rules about Nephilim's, they are dangerous."

"Nephilim? She was... She was." He stuttered, tears flowing out of his eyes. His hazel eyes were waterfalls as the droplets fell off his face onto his lovers cold,pale, and beautiful face. "So, you didn't just kill my future wife, but my child?"

He knew what had happened to you a few months later, the Nephilim was born and he killed you but it died, apparently from "complications" of course that wasn't the case. You had gone to the empty, the lonely boring place where you go insane for the rest of the world. Gabriel had gotten more worse over the years, his brother Lucifer disobeyed and was now a fallen angel, him and Castiel have gotten closer over the years, him Michael and Raphael have gotten into more arguments, mainly about his love for you. All because you were human and they didn't like it, they killed you and look where you were! Left and forgotten by the world, not by him. Never, how could he forget the love of his life. But, even for what they have done- he still loved them. They were his family and he loved them. The one who he could talk to without judge or interruption, the one who made him feel like he wasn't different from everybody else.

Now here he was, having Sam and Dean Winchester, the handsome and oldy charming, pain in the ass, brothers trying to get out of his own personal TV land. It was amusing to him, playing tricks on his brothers vessels to make them say yes. He wonders if he's doing the right decision, what would you say? This was possibly the only way to get you back from that morbid place. He hated the idea but if it was a way to see you again, he will do what ever it takes.

"Alright you son of a bitch!" His head turned around faster than he could comprehend "uncle"

Gabriel instantly showed up, and there he was. Dean Winchester! He raised his arms up and yelled one last line "We'll do it!"

His arms flung back down and Sam, who was in that damn car said "should I honk"

"showtime" he mumbled and walked towards the boys and towards the slick black impala "wow, Sam! Get a load of the rims on you." He said, striding over.

Sam didn't seem too impressed with the comment, as he followed the tricksters line with "Eat me." A whistle left his mouth and stood Infront of Dean "Okay,boys, ready to go quietly?"

After a while of talking and Sam finally having opposable thumbs, Gabriel walked right into the Winchesters trap. He's screwed.

The Winchesters were finally free from his TV land and was in an abandoned storage place, everything falling apart, molding and it was just gross. Gabriel congratulated them from working it out and finally told them his true identity. The archangel Gabriel. The idiots didn't even know why they were chosen to be vessels, to Gabriel they were really dumb to not put the dots together.

He brought Castiel back, a broken nose and a bit of blood on his trench coat "Hello Gabriel" he said, his voice still the same gruff voice he had years ago "hey bro" he said and saw someone or something behind Castiel. "Brought you a present" he said and moved out the way. Gabriel's eyes go wide, those eyes he will never forget. "Gabriel?" You spoke, your voice shaley from shock of seeing him. His brown hair was still the same length as it was, his eyes still a beautiful hazel, only his clothing has changed. You were the same, you were wearing a black shirt and Blue jeans. "Oh Angel" he mumbled, water spitting everywhere, dying down the fire and getting rid of the holy oil.

Gabriel didn't notice the others gone since all his attention was on you, his angel.

You had tears spilling out from your eyes, walking towards him and Infront of him. He was still the same handsome man you fell in love with, your hand was placed on his cheek as your thumb caressed his face. His stubble tickling you a slight bit "Angel..." He mumbled, leaning his forehead on yours, his hands slithering around your waist to pull you closer. The touch you both have been deprived of for hundreds of years. His lips attached to yours, a soft passionate kiss he's been yearning for. Hesitation wasn't a thing to you, immediately you kissed back. The taste of sweet candy filled your taste buds, a smile cracked on your face as you pulled away. Tears still flowing down your faces as the reunion continued. "I missed you so much Gabe. I don't know what happened." You began. He didn't want to hear anything right now, he placed a finger onto your lips "lets save that for later" he spoke, his soft voice droighting the water splashing onto the floor, covering you both. It felt relaxing, the water hitting your body and the touch of your lover. "Promise me something angel" Gabriel started "promise never to leave me, please." You looked at him dead in the eye and shook your head "I will never ever, leave you Gabriel. I am your angel in blue jeans after all"

[let-them-read-fics]

Rivalries Of The High Seas

Requested By Anon: "Pirate AU, enemies to lovers."

AU: Pirate

Pairing: Captain!Rosé x Fem!Captain!Reader

Word Count: ~ 7,375

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major Injury (Inflicted On Reader), Dangerous Situations, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Anon, thank you for this one! I've never seen the movie you mentioned in your request, but you did well in explaining what you wanted to see here. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

PS ~ Captain Rosé could step on me and I'd say thank you

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Death isn't a new thing to you. It isn't some far-off, enigmatic fear capable of tearing down your psyche anytime the topic is brought up. In fact, you're faced with the harsh realities of it almost everyday, given your ranking. Even still, when you woke up this morning, you hadn't expected for the day to consist of you meeting your end. 

Your hands remain clasped together tightly, bound to the rickety wooden chair you've been securely strapped into by layers of rope and chains. Your wrists burn as the rough material pulls against your skin, surely leaving dark marks by now, but that's the least of your worries as you eye the bandits standing before you. Their faces hold smug grins, cheeks pulling back in eerie smiles to reveal crooked teeth. "I won't give you the pleasure of seeing me beg for my life. I accept my fate." You say bravely, holding your head high. 

"How noble, Captain." They sneer, leaning far too close for comfort. You fight the gag that works its way up your throat at the smell of them, the wicked stench burning your nostrils as it invades them. 

"Even if you escape now, the rest of my crew will come for you." Rosé finally speaks from behind you, sitting in the same state as you as she glares at the surrounding men. Her fingers futilely pull at your shared restraints for the millionth time, brushing along your wrist in the process. 

"It's cute that you think that matters. We'll be long gone by then."

Her head lightly pushes against yours as she leans back in her chair, seeking to evade the man when he enters her personal space. For some reason unbeknownst to you, your blood boils at his actions -- though Rosé is your enemy of sorts, seeing that she's a rival captain herself, you can't help but want to keep him away from her. 

The vile creature parts her legs with an evil smirk on his lips, his filthy hand groping her thigh as he runs his fingers along her beautiful skin. She whimpers in protest, growing afraid of what he'll do to her in her captive state. Had she been unrestricted right now, she would've most definitely cut his hand off, forever reminding the world of his misdeeds. 

"Just get it over with!" You shout angrily, voice hoarse from all the screaming you've done today. You've grown tired of the game they've been playing for over an hour, flipping between beating and ridiculing you relentlessly. 

"Alright, alright," their leader chuckles, putting his hands up as he approaches you. He instructs his men to be on standby, ready to gather around the two of you and hoist you into the air. They wait for the all-clear to throw you overboard and into the chilly sea below, full of creatures you've seen during your fateful adventures over the years. There are certainly worse ways to go, and you attempt to come to terms with what's about to happen. Perhaps this is a poetic end for you -- being laid to rest in the place that you've spent most of your life and made countless memories.

"Keep those eyes on me as you fall. I want to remember what it looked like to take down the infamous Y/N L/N." You narrow your eyes at their leader, grimacing as they scan over his greasy, jet black hair and tattered overcoat. Aren't the "bad guys" supposed to at least be stylish? He's a sorry excuse for one if so. 

"Kiss my ass." You utter, spitting at him. He lunges forward, just like you expected -- seriously, why are men so predictable? -- and takes the collar of your shirt between his fingers. He delivers a swift blow to your left cheek, only allowing you a second to recover before pulling your head back up to give the same treatment to the other side. 

You can feel Rosé tense behind you, doing all she can to reach for you and offer comfort. 

With a pained groan, you spit out a mouthful of fresh blood and raise your head to look at him again. "You know, you're not nearly as observant as you think you are." You smile, ignoring the pain that shoots through your busted lip. Before he has time to react, you raise your foot in one motion, swiftly connecting it with his crotch.  How could they neglect to tie your feet? That's practically Pirate 101.

He doubles over in an instant, lungs void of the air necessary to speak another insult in retaliation to your act and body incapable of any further movement. His men make the decision for him, taking this moment as a sign to follow through with their plan and throw you over. Shouts and cheers pierce through the air above you as you make your quick descent, not even having time to say a goodbye to Rosé or offer a final word to the universe. 

Cold water immediately rushes over your heated skin as you plunge into the waves below, its frigid temperature almost taking what little breath you managed to store away in your lungs. Aided by the water's altered state of gravity, you're able to work your hips past a few of the loosely tied ropes that rested against them. 

One thing you admire about Rosé is her quick thinking. She's smart -- while you distracted the leader, she took the opportunity to pry off some of the restraints that required more time and effort, just like you hoped she would. Her slender fingers inconspicuously wiggled their way out of the ropes before freeing you from them as well, and the bandits were none the wiser. Her previous actions make this part all the more easy, and after spending a while on the final ties, the two of you kick off of your chairs and head for the surface. It's a struggle, no doubt, with the way you have to fight to bring the chains up with you and keep them from pulling you further under. But eventually you reach the surface, once again filling your lungs with that miraculously fresh air that they so desperately craved. 

The saltwater stings as it flows over your face, getting in your eyes and rushing over all the wounds you've accumulated. Rosie sputters from beside you, struggling a bit to keep her head up, so you extend an arm for her to use to push herself up. You tell yourself you're only doing it -- that is, making sure she doesn't drown -- because she'll be useful in helping you survive. Deep down, though, your intentions extend further than that. 

Once you find a steady rhythm with the waves and the fear of drowning subsides for the time being, you scan the horizon line. "I see land -- over there." You say, using your head to point to what looks to be an island in the distance. "We'll swim when we have the energy and float when we need rest, okay?" She nods in response, and the two of you get set on your way. 

-----

Huffing from the pure exhaustion coursing through your bodies, you manage to drag yourselves onto shore before collapsing. The sand serves as a good place to lay, almost cradling you the longer you lay there. Tiny, rippling waves -- the aftershocks of much bigger ones -- lull into shore, fluttering past your ankles before being pulled back in by the tide. They lap against your skin, remedying your racing mind with their rhythm. Minutes pass in this cycle, setting you in a state of comfort before you remember everything you'll have to do before nightfall.

Once gaining enough strength, you raise your head and peek over at your rival.

She's sleeping. Of course. You can't blame her, but the sun -- once blazingly hot, perched high up in the sky -- is now setting, giving you a preview of the darkness that the night sky will hold. She turns, rolling her head towards you in her sleep, and you almost smile -- a light dusting of sand sticks to her puffed-out cheeks, and the bridge of her nose holds a small sunburn, making her look sunkissed and blushy. Y/N, stop that, you command yourself, shaking your head at your thoughts. She's your enemy, and she's the reason you're even in this mess in the first place. 

"Wake up," you nudge her, reverting back to your previously tense demeanor. The anger you possess for the situation you're in is returning en masse, wiping the pleasant thoughts of Rosé from your mind. 

She groans, keeping her eyes tightly shut as she attempts to ignore you. "Roseanne, we have to get up." Your voice is strong, commanding her just like your crew. Your crew, you think to yourself. Some of them were killed by the bandits while others were thrown into the prison chambers of your ship, left at the mercy of your enemies until they decide what they want to do with them. Your people are inventive and strong -- they'll likely find a way out of the sticky situation and reclaim victory. For now, though, you're left to worry about their fates as you attempt to survive on this island. If the elements and animals don't kill you first, the gorgeous woman beside you most definitely will. 

"I'm up!" She all but shouts, following another prodding from you. Her eyes flutter open and she instinctively raises her hand to wipe her face -- you catch the chains before they can make contact and harm her, and she sends you an appreciative look. "Guess I forgot about these…" she shakes her arms, jiggling your restraints in the process, "Oopsie."

"Come on." You say, standing up and pulling her along with you. Her dilly dallying is making you impatient, and it only increases your levels of irritation. You don't have time to waste. 

"We have to break these," she states the obvious, searching the shore for a decently sized rock.

A sarcastic gasp slips past your lips as you look at her. "You don't say! I was thinking we'd just leave them on." She turns to glare at you, narrowing her eyes as she stops walking. Dear god, there's no time for this. With a mumbled "here we go", you allow her to continue. 

"You know, we wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you." 

"Me?!" You shout, completely taken aback. "Quite the contrary, Rosé. You're the one who led them to us!"

"If you would've accepted my offer, none of this would've happened. But you refuse to team up with anyone else. Look at where that got us now." She motions around herself to the island, expression settling back into an annoyed scowl as her eyes settle on you again. 

"It's not my fault that my crew is more trained than yours; I had no reason to merge our teams."

"An agreement would've solidified our strength!" She yells, stomping her foot into the sand. Her boots managed to survive the long trip here, but their material is completely soaked.

"I'm responsible for my crew, and my crew only. I had no decent reason to bring yours in with mine. It's just a liability and more mouths to feed." You say evenly, clenching and releasing your jaw a few times. 

She begins to fire off her rebuttal, but you tune her out for the most part and start walking further inland. She has no choice but to follow, and she does so while adamantly complaining. You throw occasional jabs to her arguments in order to keep her moving, and your plan works well. She's too busy bickering with you to notice that she's doing exactly what you want her to.

"...and you're so arrogant, Y/N! I mean, really. God, you're infuriating." 

"Are you done yet?" You ask, cocking your head to the side while you simply blink at her. She squints at you, about to give you another piece of her mind, but you glance down at the rock you led her to and she closes her mouth. 

"You can keep screaming at me or we can break these chains. Your choice." You shrug, pursing your lips. She cuts her eyes at you, but agrees with a huff, nonetheless. 

The two of you work together to find fittingly sized rocks, taking turns dropping them on your restraints and methodically working them against them. Eventually the chains give way, allowing your hands to wiggle out of their strict hold. You're the first to free yourself; once you're done, you find Rosé struggling in silence, refusing to ask for your help. 

"Here," you offer, extending a hand to her. Doing nice things for people without gaining something for yourself isn't something you do often -- you've been raised differently; grown more independent and self-serving after your time on the sea. 

"Oh, now you want to work together?" She quirks an eyebrow.

You put your hands up with an amused grin. "I don't have to help, feel free to do it alone." You stand, dusting the sand off of your clothes as you begin to walk away and investigate the island. She calls out behind you, annoyed shouts getting further and further away as you just smile and continue your journey. 

------

"Ah, glad you could join us again." You smirk, adding some kindling to the small fire you managed to set up during her time away. 

"Shut it," she bites back, glaring at you. 

"Tough crowd," you laugh, raising your eyebrows. For once, she doesn't say anything back. She busies herself with removing her shoes and socks, setting them next to the source of heat to dry before disappearing into the tree line. She returns a few minutes later, carrying with her a few different branches. Some of them are forked at the top, and she arranges them into a sturdy structure beside the fire as well. You try not to focus on how strong she looks as she does it, her muscles glistening in the fading evening light with a sheet of sweat.

To your surprise, she begins stripping. 

First her overcoat, which she drapes across the branch acting as a beam between the forked ones, and then her vest. She wrings them out individually, and you watch as the materials drip with what water hadn't already evaporated yet. The loose linen undershirt that she wears remains on, and you're thankful for that -- had she taken it off as well, you likely would've passed out. The blush on your cheeks deepens as you feel her eyes on you, and you keep your gaze trained on the fire. 

"Well? Are you planning to stay in those clothes all night?" She asks, running a hand through her hair to fix it and get some of the sand out. 

"If I didn't know better I'd say you're trying to get me naked, Rosie." You play, smiling harder when you see her roll her eyes and look away. 

"You wish," she scoffs, though you can see her stealing glances at you as you remove your clothes. She admires the shadows that the fire casts over your body, the flames dancing as they offer their beautiful warmth. The two of you go way back, having grown up as frenemies due to your professions, but she's always had a soft spot for you. You piss her off to no end, and yet somehow she can think of plenty worse people to be stuck with.

After catching her staring, you decide to tease her. You flex your muscles, making sure to be extra and really make a show of it. She blushes, hiding behind her hands to escape the situation. 

"Awww, somebody's shy." You say, chuckling at her. 

"Am not," she protests, though her sheepish grin sells her out.

"Prove it," you challenge, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Teasing her is one of your favorite pastimes. 

Tired of the games, she gathers all of the courage she possesses and stands, slowly sauntering her way over to you. Your eyes take in the sight of her, and she smirks; she works hard to stay in shape, and she knows she looks good. Countless weeks spent at sea, working alongside her crew on long voyages has left her with artfully tanned skin and a physique to die for. You go to compliment her, but she stops you before you have the chance, pressing a finger to your pursed lips. She trails it lower, blazing a path across your jawline and chest, stopping at your ribs. Your breath hitches, and she definitely feels it. You curse yourself for being so easy, already knowing what's coming. 

"Who's shy now, sweetheart?" She purrs out, smiling victoriously. 

How she's capable of switching demeanors so easily baffles you, but it ensures that no interaction with her will be boring, if nothing else. 

"Yeah, yeah," you grumble, pushing her away to break the growing tension. She's looking at you with some glint in her eye that you can't quite place -- all you know is that if she keeps doing it, things might escalate to a place neither of you are prepared for.

You clear your throat and step around her to adjust your clothes on the drying rack. "You can go ahead and sleep. I'll stay awake and keep the fire going."

She nods with a slight frown on her lips, though you don't see it. "Alright. But wake me up when you get too tired, okay?" You assure her you will, though truthfully your body is aching for sleep right now. The beating you took earlier did its worst on you, leaving your skin bruised and muscles knotted. She deserves to rest, though, and you're okay with giving her the first shift of it. Besides, your mind would surely keep you awake for the better part of an hour -- at least it'll be used to its fullest with her. 

What you don't realize, however, is that when she lays down beside you, cuddling into the sorry attempt for a bedroll that you threw together, she merely pretends to fall asleep. Likewise, when she settles her head in your lap, searching for a more comfortable place to lay it, she's fully conscious. She lazily smiles when you run your hands through her hair, wrapping the locks around your fingers in mindless patterns before releasing them and starting over. It's soothing, and soon enough she calms her eager heart enough to slip away to dreamland. 

--- A Few Days Later --- 

"Wakey wakey…" Rosé sing-songs, hovering over you. The two of you have settled into this familiar rhythm over the past few days, spending the daytime searching for food and supplies and taking shifts to sleep through the night. You've almost always ended up taking the latter opportunity, though sometimes Rosé would force you to rest first if you needed it badly enough. 

"Mmm," you groan in disapproval, rolling over. The sun is far too bright, and your upgraded bed situation is much too comfortable to offer any valid reason for you to leave it. Rosé knows how difficult it is to get you up, but she's learned some very useful tactics. 

"Y/N…" she drawls, voice like honey as it releases your name with care. Her lips are next to your ear, teasing you as her warm breath fans across your neck. You audibly swallow, not prepared for that in the slightest, and slowly peek your eyes open. She raises a hand to shield your face from the unforgiving sun, and you smile at the domesticity of the act. She looks like a dream -- her hair is fanned out, swaying peacefully in the calm breeze that rolls in from the sea, and she's grinning that killer smile down at you. Her previous sunburn has turned into a tan now, making her look even more irresistible somehow. 

"What do you want to do today?" You ask, lacing your fingers together as you put them behind your head. They work as a cradle, cushioning your head from the sand.

"I saw some berry bushes on the north side of the island. They didn't look like any poisonous kind I've studied about, so maybe we could check them out?" She suggests, sitting back on her knees with a quirked brow. 

"Sounds like a plan." You smile lazily, gazing up at her. A light pattern of freckles paints her cheeks, and you can't help but grin at how adorable she is. 

"What is it?" She asks skeptically, squinting at you. 

"You're just too cute for your own good, is all." You sigh, content as you stand up and tug a blushing Rosé behind you. She closes the "door" behind herself, sealing off the entryway to your humble abode. It's a panel of leaves and sticks, built to be sturdy yet lightweight and easy to move. She built it herself, and a sweet smile works its way onto her lips as she remembers the praise you sent her way after she presented it to you. 

--------

"If you don't slow down then I'm gonna slap you," she says, peering up at the trees that loom high overhead. In her distracted state, she neglects to look where she's going.

Her rambling is cut short by your hand darting out in front of her, effectively stilling her movements and words. You glance at the ground, prompting her eyes to follow the path they made and widen upon realizing what you just saved her from. An animal -- some wretched cross between a scorpion and pincher beetle -- continues its trip across the downed log that lays in front of you, menacing in its appearance. 

"Thank you," she breathes out, leaning into your side as you hold her and direct her away from danger. 

"Do me a favor and don't die, okay?" You quirk, scrunching your face up at her humorously. She shoves you, holding up her middle finger as she walks ahead and blazes a path for the two of you. You chuckle, grinning stupidly as you follow after her. 

--- 3 Hours Later --- 

"Take cover," you shout to an imaginary army, seeking refuge behind the base of a large tree. Rosé chuckles maniacally from behind one of the berry bushes, her fingers lightly stained from the juices that are running down her palm. 

"Nice try, Y/N. But you can't escape… CAPTAIN ROSÉ!" She shouts, surprising you as she charges in your direction, pelting you with berry after berry. You squeal, evading as many of the makeshift missiles as you can by darting behind different greenery. She eventually catches up, snaking her arms around your waist and preventing you from getting away again.

"NO!" You exclaim, slumping further into her arms in defeat after your attempts to escape prove futile. She spins you around to face her, pressing your back up against the nearest tree as the two of you practically double over with laughter. She looks ethereal, with how she shines in the sunlight that sneaks its way through the canopy of tree tops above you. Her eyes are almost closed from how hard she's smiling at you. 

A sharp growl breaks the happy moment, perking your ears up and causing your heart to race for a different reason entirely. You glance around the tree, protectively stepping in front of Rosé to shield her from any new threat. An animal -- something you've never seen before -- bares its teeth, snarling aggressively as it sets its sights on you. Your blood runs cold in your veins, stopping your heart momentarily as your brain attempts to formulate a plan on the fly. With only a few precious moments left before it attacks, you glance around for anything to double as a weapon without making any sudden movements. 

Rosé is clutched onto you from behind, and you can feel her heart beating wildly. You have to protect her, no matter what. 

"On my count, I want you to climb into this tree. I'm going to try and defend us." From what little knowledge you've inferred in the past couple minutes, you doubt the animal is capable of climbing well; it doesn't have the body or feet for it. You fear it is capable of running quickly, though, so the tree is likely your best bet. 

"What? No, I'm going to--"

"Roseanne, please, for once, just do as I ask. Trust me." You plead over your shoulder, noting the slight tremble that runs through her as another roar echoes out. Your eyes remain trained on it, never backing down for a second. 

One steadying breath later, you shout, "Now!" and swoop down to pick up what helpful materials you can. You charge at the animal, taking the offensive in order to keep as much distance possible between it and Rosé. You successfully jab the sharpened stick into its side, causing it to wail in pain. In an instant it grabs your arm, wrapping it's paws around you as it lunges forwards and tumbles to the ground on top of you. A scream leaves your lips as you watch its teeth dig further into your flesh, garnering deep crimson blood to spill from your developing wounds. You protect your neck with your other arm, only breaking this rule to reach to your side and retrieve the heavy rock you brought along as well. It connects with the side of the animal's head, only making it whimper before loosening its grip the slightest bit. You weren't prepared for it to be such a tough enemy. You use your strength to roll it over and sit on top of it, keeping your arm in its grip to ensure that it stays occupied. Your fingers dig into every sensitive part of its body you can reach, performing the defense moves you've spent your life practicing to use. With a glance at Rosé, you find her safe in the tree, just like you wanted. 

"Run!" You shout, willing to keep the creature distracted in order to give her time to escape. Before you can see if she listens to you, it's nails claw into your abdomen, scratching painful designs into the previously smooth skin. It performs another death roll, and you barely have the strength to shank it in the side again. It howls, rearing back to go for your jugular before its movements are abruptly cut short. An unsettling crack rings out above you, and you open your eyes after not receiving the fatal blow you had been expecting. The animal scampers away from you, limping off further into the forest until it's out of sight. 

Rosé drops the large branch in her hand, the end of it lightly stained with blood. "Go..." you weakly mumble, eyes beginning to flutter closed as you notice how much blood you've already lost. You feel cold, and you have to fight the shiver that runs through you.

"I've got you, Y/N." She whispers, cradling your fragile frame in her arms as she picks you up and begins the journey back to camp. "You did good." She reassures, having no idea how much you needed to hear that before falling unconscious. 

---------

After gathering the medicinal plants and resources that the two of you have accumulated so far, she returns to the fireside, settling down beside you. She raises your shirt enough to have access to your wounds, but not far enough to expose you. Temperate water meets your bloodied and broken skin, rushing over the sensitive areas as she gently cleans them. Once dry, she mixes the materials into a sort of salve to rub on them before laying the plants on them in place of bandages. 

The crackling of the fire works with the crashing of distant waves to serve as background noise, making the night far more peaceful than the day had been. She allows you to continue resting, knowing you need all of it that you can get. 

About an hour or so later you wake with a start, hands reaching out as if you were right back in front of the animal. Your dreams were plagued with images of the nightmarish beast, and you're having trouble adjusting to the fact that they were all in your head. They felt so real. Rosé is by your side in an instant, brushing your hair out of your face with one hand while caressing your thigh with the other -- it's one of the only places that made it out of battle relatively unscathed. Your panicked eyes find hers, glazed over with tears as you pull her flush against your body, glad to know she's okay. Her warmth reminds you that she's here, that she's real, and that she's safe. 

Memories of your fight come flooding back, filling your mind with the terrifying things you witnessed and reigniting your fight or flight response. You remember that she didn't listen to you -- she put herself in harm's way instead of leaving you behind, like you asked -- and you grow angry. Muttered phrases of disapproval leave your lips as you push her away, stumbling slightly when you try to stand on your own. Although confused by your erratic behavior, she reaches out to assist you, only to be met with a harsh refusal from you. 

"Stop!" The word comes out as an angry shout -- louder than you originally intended -- but you can't find it in yourself to apologize right now. You find your footing after a moment, holding your side as you walk away from her. 

"What's your problem?" She shouts, marching after you. She refuses to let this go without a fight, seeing as how she has plenty more questions than answers now.

"You could've gotten hurt, Rosé, and I could've handled it on my own." You say over your shoulder, continuing on your journey away from camp. Her relentlessness is quickly getting on your nerves.

"Clearly you couldn't! You needed help; why are you denying that?" She stops now, crossing her arms angrily with her brows furrowed. The fact that you're still so set on clinging to your pride is pissing her off. 

"You should've left me there! I can't have you getting hurt because of me." You turn around now, setting your jaw. Is she really this blind? This has nothing to do with your pride. Her eyes meet yours, the pools overflowing with confusion as they scan over your face in search of clarification.

"I can handle something happening to me; I've made my peace with that. But if something ever happened to you because of my incompetence…" you shake your head at the mere thought of that, momentarily too overwhelmed to continue, "...I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I care about you, idiot." You add that last line before turning around, not bothering to wait on her reaction. Part of you is scared to, honestly, and the day has been far too eventful for you to handle a potential rejection on top of everything else. 

She says nothing, leaving the air around you void of her beautiful voice, and you don't know whether to be thankful or disheartened. 

You put more distance between the two of you, leaving a stunned Rosé in your wake as you find a place to sit along the shoreline. Your temper -- more precisely, the fear you hold that presents itself as anger -- reared its head tonight. You didn't mean to snap at her like that, but the possibility of her getting hurt because of you makes your blood boil. That would be unforgivable, and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself. You felt helpless earlier, quickly running out of the strength required to keep her safe.

Salty tears manage to break past your line of defenses, much like Rosé has managed to do with your heart. She's torn down every wall you've ever put up to protect yourself, and now that she's there you don't know how to cope. You've had people you considered close before, but none of them have mattered like she does. You've never been so afraid of losing someone. 

A soft hand on your shoulder makes you jump slightly, pulling you from your thoughts. Speak of the devil.

"Hey." She says simply, sitting down beside you. You turn your face away, not wanting to let her see you cry. "I'm sorry for fighting, okay? But I'm not sorry for helping you. I care about you, too, and I'll be damned to just leave you like that." She doesn't say anything else, doesn't try to make you look at her -- she just sits there, waiting for you to be ready to do so on your own. 

She's waited on you since you were teenagers, so she figures she's capable of waiting a bit longer now. Both of you are aware of the love you hold for one another; this is just the hardest part -- finally admitting it. 

"I can't lose you," you whisper, eyes full of tears that occasionally roll down your cheeks once gravity finds its footing. You turn to the front, still too emotional to look into her eyes. 

"Ditto. That's why I did what I did." 

Your knees are raised and pulled in close to your body for security, your arms wrapped around them to keep them in place. She reaches over to rest her hand on yours, wordlessly coaxing you into looking at her. 

"I…" You pause, voice breaking with the emotions you're still reeling from. 

"I know." She says, resting her forehead against yours. 

"I love you, too." 

She pulls you in, making sure to be gentle and not injure you any further. She raises your head to press her lips against yours, tasting the faint hint of wildberry that still rests on them from earlier. It's slow and new, giving you a break from the intensity you've been dealing with the past few days. You tilt your head to the right, letting out a whimper as her fingers graze a bruised spot on your ribs. She gives you another peck before pulling away, determined to stop herself while she still can. You're addicting, and she already can't get enough of you. 

A beat passes between you, giving you time to sort the thoughts rushing around your mind. "I've always loved you." You admit, pulling back to look at her. Tears well in her eyes, shining brightly in the brilliant moonlight as they threaten to fall. 

"Ever since we commanded our own boats for the first time. Mine was better, of course," she laughs at that, smiling despite herself, "...but I knew you were different then. I've spent all these years being too stubborn to let myself have you." 

She takes your words in, her heart pounding victoriously in her chest at your confession. "I knew when we were still training together. You always made things better for me then; I was so thankful to know you. Even if we teased the hell out of each other." 

You grin at the countless memories that come to mind. "Do you remember that night at the docks, after we graduated from our classes?" She looks up, searching her memory vault. "When you kissed me?" She asks. You nod, looking down with a bashful smile. 

"I knew we wouldn't see each other for a while, so I wanted to make it count."

"You made it really hard to say goodbye, you know?" She says, her eyes softening as she looks at you. 

"I know. But you get half of the blame." 

She tuts at you, nudging you playfully. You hiss in pain, causing her to bring a hand up to cover her growing smile. "Oops. Sorry, not sorry." 

"If I wasn't hurting so bad I'd tackle you right now." 

"Oh, I'm so scared." She laughs, mocking you. 

"That's it," you declare, ignoring the pain that shoots through your body with all the moving you're doing. Her laugh practically heals you anyway, so it's not hard to push it from your mind. You press her into the sand, rolling over to straddle her hips and pin her hands above her head. 

"Woah, tiger. Don't hurt yourself." She raises her head as much as her restrained state will allow, coming dangerously close to your face. 

"You're such a dork." You tut, leaning in to capture her lips once more. She mumbles out a, "you love it, though" against you, and your heart can't help but soar. 

- A Few Weeks Later -

A soft melody rides along the airwaves towards your ears, persuading you to wake up from your cozy slumber. You cuddle further into Rosie's tempting embrace, smiling at the way she pulls you impossibly closer. Her throat wiggles as she hums out a familiar tune from your childhood -- one of the songs you used to dance together to. 

"You big softie." You coo, resting your chin on her chest to look into her eyes with a smile. She grins, finally peeking at you through her lashes. 

"Good morning, beautiful." She says, her accent coming through adorably. She pulls you up to her lips for a kiss before rolling you onto your back. 

You sigh as she leaves open mouth kisses to your neck, dragging her lips over the skin there lazily. She takes her time, leaving marks here and there to show the world who you belong to. Her hands skim over the warm skin of your abdomen, finally free of the intense wounds you've been recovering from. Only small scars are left now, serving as a testament to what you endured.

"Mmm, I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat." She chuckles at that, her head falling forward to rest against your shoulder as her body shakes with laughter. 

"You're thinking about food while I'm kissing you?" She grins, propping herself up on her arm to look down at you lovingly. 

"What can I say? I'm a hungry girl." You kiss her cheeks, ghosting your lips over hers. "Although," you tease the corner of her mouth, "...you're looking pretty tasty right about now. I might just eat you instead." 

She squeals as you crawl on top of her, pretending to bite her skin as you tickle her sides. 

"I surrender!" She shouts, finally giving into you. You kiss her one last time before pulling away and practically dragging her out of the structure. 

"I'll get started on cooking the fish if you grab some water." You offer, rustling through your handmade crate for the skewers you use to prepare food. 

"Alright," she nods, kissing you on the cheek before grabbing your canteens and setting off towards the freshwater spring not far from camp. 

"Be careful!" You call out after her, smiling when she turns around to face you with her hands in the form of a heart. 

---------

"Good job baby. That was delicious." She compliments, leaning back against the log you use as seating beside the fire. She almost always opts to sit in the sand and rest against it for some reason, but you're long past questioning her at this point. Rosie's… unique. 

"They don't call me Chef Y/N for nothing." You quip, holding your head higher with a sense of self-importance. 

"They don't call you that anyway." 

"Hey," you pout, slapping the back of her head with no real force. "Let a girl pretend, would you?"

"Fine, my apologies." She smiles again, and you can't help but do the same. You've lost count of how many times she's made you laugh over these past few weeks, and although you hope to be rescued sooner rather than later, the thought of being stuck here with her for a while longer doesn't seem all that bad. 

"You're doing it again," she trails off, wiggling her voice up and down to tease you. 

"What?" 

"Looking at me like a lovesick puppy." Her eyes shine in the warm, tropical sunlight, pools of rich amber that you wouldn't mind getting lost in. They match the color of whiskey almost perfectly.

"Not my fault. Have you seen yourself?." She scoffs, but blushes nonetheless. You lean over to press a kiss to the top of her head affectionately. 

Your attention is stolen away all at once as you hear the words you've been imagining ever since you arrived on the island. "Land, ho!" Multiple voices bellow out in the distance, prompting you to search for their source. Collective cheering can be heard, and you swiftly stand -- as if that simple act will miraculously enable you to see better. 

"We're coming, Captain!" Jisoo, your second in command shouts, seemingly hanging off the bow of the ship -- your ship. A squad of others follows behind, maintaining a tight formation as they make their way to shore. 

"Us too, Captain!" Someone calls from one of the neighboring boats, apparently one of Rosé's crewmembers. She waves back excitedly, and you bite back the smile that tugs at your cheeks. 

Eventually they reach land.

"Y/N!" Your scout, Lisa, shrieks like a schoolgirl, running into your arms eagerly. She was the first friend you ever made during your training years, long before you met Rosé, and you were truly worried for her.

"Ah, Lisa. Jisoo." You look between the two of them proudly, glad to see them alive and well. "What happened?" 

"We managed to defeat Captain Crusty's men--" she stops to explain when she notices your brows furrowed in amused confusion, "--that's the nickname we gave the bandit leader. Anyway, we defeated them and repaired the ship enough to make it back to shore. They did some major damage, though." 

You nod, satisfied with their story, until you remember that they didn't come alone. You subtly motion your head to the other crew, and Jisoo gets the memo. "We found the rest of these pea-brains back at the docks and they insisted on coming along."

"Hey, it's not like we wanted to be stuck with you either!" Jennie, Rosé's second, hits back, defending herself and the rest of her crew. "If your moron captain would've listened to Rosé we wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't have lost anyone in the process." 

"Quiet," Rosé warns, stepping in front of her to block the two sides from each other.

Despite knowing it isn't technically your fault, Jennie's words do hold some truth. You feel guilty for all the senseless violence you could've potentially spared your people from enduring, and the what-ifs weigh heavily on your mind and heart. 

"So long as I'm still in charge, no one will disrespect Y/N or her crew. Are we clear? I won't take kindly to any of you going against me." It's a heavy warning, and her tone makes it clear that she'll be true to her word. They know better than to test her. Her eyes scan the group of misfits, all looking bewildered by her sudden change of heart. It must be a bit jarring for them, after being such bitter enemies with the others for so long. Regardless, scattered nods and grumbles of acceptance leave them before they all scurry away to get started on their tasks, looking like scolded children. 

You send Lisa and Jisoo along with the rest of your crew to go ahead and board again, seeing that you have no real equipment to pack up this time. It feels wrong to leave the island  -- the place that brought you back to Rosie and allowed you to open your heart to her -- without something to remember it by. So, with a whispered, "Wait here," you run back to camp to snatch something. 

You return soon after, a huge smile plastered on your face. "You're bringing our door?" She laughs, tilting her head at your strange choice. 

"Duh. Good to know your eyes still work, I was getting worried." You tease, giggling as she pinches you. 

"Come on baby; let's go. Last one there has to clean the poop deck." 

"Get back here!" She yells, chasing you into the chilly water with a smile. Whether she loses or not doesn't matter much to her -- she finally has you after all these years, and she can't wait to see where the future will take the two of you. 

[byuntrash101]

Cry me a Fucking River

Pairing: Baekhyun x You

Genre: angst 💀(i tried), smut 🖤

Tags: plot, back story, psychological and physical violence, Ex!AU, AbusiveRelationship!AU, “make up” sex, crying, alcohol, breeding kink (i guess?), VERY angsty, bitter sweet ending. Don't read if you are triggered by these topics

Raiting: 18+

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: Even if it’s a lie you love the way he looks at you when he says “I love you”.

A/N: It’s sooo difficult for me to write angst. I really tried hard 🥲... But IM really inspired me with the song. Even the tittle comes from IM's neck tattoo in the MV... I’ve been working on this one shot ever since it came out (aka a long time ago) please tell me if i did justice to this beautiful song ^^

General Masterlist

Inspired by IM Changkyun’s “God damn”

𝓖𝓸𝓭 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝓲𝓽, 𝓘 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽

𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 '𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓘'𝓶 𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭, 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓱

𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓷' 𝔂𝓸𝓾

𝓖𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓮 𝓪 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝓖𝓸𝓭 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝓲𝓽, 𝓘 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽

𝓘'𝓶 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘'𝓶 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝓖𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

𝓘 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾,

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓘'𝓶 𝓭𝓻𝓾𝓷𝓴

                                                 Received 4m ago

                                               Baekhyun: I miss u...

                                                                    ✓ Read

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯...

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶...

𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯

You sigh staring at the ceiling of your room. Your roommates are down stairs playing an alcohol game but you sit here alone. You don’t feel like having fun tonight… You don’t feel like anything at all actually.

You lift your phone up and stare at the name on the screen. Baekhyun… Baekhyun is your ex boyfriend. You have been separated for a year now. After 3 years of the most toxic and damaging relationship you ever had you finally broke up. 

You told everybody he was bad for you.

You told your friends how possessive he was, how would go through your phone, or force you to use the speakerphone every time you have a call. Or how controlling he was when he didn’t want you to wear make up or even earrings…

And you’re not lying, all of it was true, down to the littlest detail and that’s what you told yourself too. But the truth was that you were hiding half of the story. Because no matter how much you tried to persuade yourself… you were just as bad to him.

You kept quiet on the silent treatments, spending days even weeks ignoring him, just for the sake of hurting him.

You kept quiet on the numerous ways you were always blaming him for all the problems you ever had. You never took the time to listen to him, you just always assumed it was his fault for everything. If you guys fought so much it was his fault, if he was sad, it was his fault. No matter how many hurtful words you spat his way it was his fault for being weak and not being able to bear the truth.

You kept silent on the way you always tried to make him jealous by letting other guys go after you or by simply letting people believe that you were available.

Always manipulating him in feeling sorry for himself, the exact same way he did it to you.

Like a game

Turn by turn

You were making your lives a living hell

Just like a game

 But they were moments of peace, or if you dare to call it that way, love. Yes, in some moments you truly loved each other. In a way, only the both of you can understand.

No one could possibly get how good you felt when you were finally calming down after the storm. How his eyes would clear up. How your heart would beat for him when his lips pink pouty lips curled into an adorable boxy smile. When you laid your head on his chest and that you knew he was yours, yours only. How you knew that heart beating against your ear was beating for you. How you knew the soft warm breath fanning your cheeks was just for you. When you both apologized and made the ever empty promise of never hurting each other again. He looked at you with the most sincere eyes and he said that he loved you…

This…

This feeling… no one could understand, no one but you two.

In your own unique and fucked up way… you loved each other.

But it had to be stopped right? If it went on you would have ended up killing each other… When you love and hate someone so much at the same time it’s the only way out…

And so you broke with him for good when after another fight you… You have absolutely no trouble recalling the taste of blood in your mouth, the pain in your scratched out throat, the screams of your ex-boyfriend, the sinking void in your chest…

You remember everything, every single detail.

How his voice shattered your eardrums, the noise of your nose breaking, the blood gushing out his brow bone, dripping in his eye.

That night was the last one.

 You can’t help but to think about that when you look at the message on your phone. It’s been a year, the memories of the damage you’ve done and the pain you endured is still fresh… But so is this feeling of warm happiness bubbling in your stomach… and so is this feeling you want to call love…

***

“Hey” Baekhyun simply says when he opens the front door of his apartment. He invites you in and you try to avoid his eyes.

“The living room is right there he points to the end of the hall” you nod, eyes still on the floor as you walk to the designated room. You sit yourself on the couch and Baekhyun sits right in front of you in a single seat. The only light source is a desk lamp set on the end table to your right. The room is small but cosy it has the familiar smell of cold cigarette that you came to love.

“The apartment is nice” you finally say after a long moment of silence. Baekhyun chuckles.

“Yeah… it’s kinda nice living on my own now… You know without the roommate” You are still looking around the room even though you already looked at the details of the curtains 3 times. “The only downside is that you can’t blame someone else for the dishes piling up in the sink” He laughs, with that clear, open mouth laugh that you used to know. A sound you thought you would never hear again. You don’t know why but that makes you look at him.

The second you lay eyes on him your heart sinks. His dark brown eyes forming little crescents, his pouty lips curled up in an amused smile, his moles sitting on the side of his face. After that long , you would have thought that you had forgotten such details about him but you didn’t.

His smile faded when he noticed how long you stared. You locked eyes with him and somehow it felt different… Somehow you felt like you were going to be alright… Somehow you felt at home…

“You want something to drink?” he asked, blinking twice and shaking his head, breaking the intense eye contact.

“Yeah… Vodka please” you quietly answered smiling back.

At once he disappeared into the kitchen. The room was completely silent and you were able to hear your heart. It was beating hard but not fast. You didn’t feel nervous at all for some reason.

When Baekhyun came back with two glasses of the clear liquid and a beaming smile he sat next to you on the couch. Because frankly, it was what felt the most natural. His thighs pressed against yours.

You brought your glass to your lips to have a sip.

You thought that it would have been awkward that you wouldn’t know what to say but… The truth was that you didn’t need to say anything. You already spent hours speaking already. It was like you already said all the words in the world. And no words could ever make it right anyway. What was done was done and reality can’t be sugar coated anymore.

“Listen, y/n I-“

“No” you lifted your hand. “Don’t”

You didn’t want to hear them again. You knew them by heart the fake excuses and the empty promises. You didn’t come for that. You came to remember what was good.

You leaned in and closed your eyes and Baekhyun did too. When your lips link, sparks of electricity shoot between you, shivers run down your spine, making the hairs on your nape stand. Just a simple peck before he parted from you. Immediately your lips missed the warmth of his.

Baekhyun brought his hand to press your thigh. His cold slender fingers caressing your skin though your distressed jeans. You’re startled when you feel a warm tear roll down on your cheek. You repress a sob when you finally understand what it is… Then you notice a scar above his eyebrow and flashes of the last fight come rushing to you… You made that, you made that scar, along with the many invisible one that slowly turned him into the broken person he is. The overwhelming weight of guilt comes to crush you down.

But before you can open your mouth to say anything he crashes his trembling lips on yours. Trying so hard not to cry too. But the truth is that he missed you just as much.

His cold hands slip under your hoodie and roam your heated skin while yours unbutton his shirt. You can’t believe the same hands that are right now so delicately caressing your skin are the same that were lifted hit you so many times.

You can’t believe the soft lips kissing you so sweetly are the same ones that parted to insult you so many times.

You press your eyes closed shut, trying to chase away the memories of blood gushing out and shattered screams. You let your fingers entangle in his shiny silver hair. While he unbuckles you belt and pulls down your pants. Right after you help him out of his own clothes.

You lay down on the couch and he lays right over you, gently kissing your neck as you gasp at each one.

When he pulls away to look at you, his eyes translate a thousand emotions. Guilt, sadness, remorse and maybe, just maybe, even love. Or maybe you only want to see that in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want this?” he says his own eyes brimming with tears.

“Yeah” you breathe out.

Yes you want to forget about the bad things, about the pain and hatred, about the screams and the blood. You want to escape the truth one last time. You want to tell yourself that underneath all of this was true love. And you want to believe it’s still there even though it’s untrue. Even though you’re lying again…

Just then, like he senses your need to turn your face away from the truth, your need for fiction he crashes his lips onto yours, pulling you into a rough and harsh kiss. His teeth grazing over your lips. 

His length plunges inside your sopping center and his warmth pulls a small gasp from your lips. Finally reunited at last. 

He seizes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. Both of your body match up a coordinated and pleasurable rythme. His rough and hungry hands convey how much he missed you and even after all this time, he still knows you by heart… Of course he does… and you do too because the truth is that… You and him… You could never forget each other. Forever damned to be together, forever cursed to be apart.

The pleasant and familiar feeling of his hands, his lips and his manhood kissing your deepest part ignites a fire inside you. You pull both of your bodies up. You make him sit up and you straddle his lap.

But the truth is just right here, whispering in your ear…

 “You’re just fucking whore” his distant voice yells form the back of your head

You want to forget

Your hands roughly pull on his hair as he thrusts up inside you, making you moan his name in a shaky whisper. He whimpers into the deep and messy kiss. Your hands run on his warm skin, desperate to find under your finger the soft sensation you used to know.

 The sound of shattered glass on the floor

You want to forget

Your hips swivel around on him. You push your center against his hard cock, making him moan against the skin of your neck. Both if your warm bodies pressed together are reminded of each other.

 Soft sobs, lying on the cold tiles of the bathroom

You want to forget

He nibbles on your collar bones while you throw your head back giving him unrestricted access to you. His swift hands contour you and harshly grip your waist to pull you up and push you down on him, walls clenching around him while you feel him twitch in pleasure. Baekhyun dives in on your chest, taking one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth.

 The smudge makeup, the cold nights, the reek of alcohol, the screams, the sound of his hands leaving blue marks on your face, the horrors you said, the horrors he did… everything… everything…

You want to forget everything

 “Aaaah… Baekhyun” you whisper, trying to cover the overwhelming rumor of your own memories.

“Fuck y/n” He breaths against your skin while you lower your hips on him.

It feels so good. He feels so good. You close your eyes, making sure to enjoy the moment while for a brief instant you didn’t feel miserable.

“Fuck Baekhyun… Aaaah'' you moan again, feeling your core throb around Baekhyun’s length while his comforting grunts fill the air between you. 

“That's it baby” he purrs in your ears, hands roaming your body and lightly teasing your hard nipples. “Moan my name”

“Baekhyunnn” you cry out, feeling your release coming dangerously close as you rock your hips on him. 

“Fuck baby you’re so tight” he moans “You’re gonna make me cum” He says pushing his hip up fucking you back while you both sync up, fucking each other and at a beatiful matching pace.

“Say you love me” you plead, desperately wanting to believe him.

“I love you. I love you y/n” his hoarse voice whistles in your ear.

“I love you too” 

“Let's make that kid. Let's have that child we always dreamed about” he moans, nails digging into your bare thighs

“Okay” you whisper in a short breath, giving up, desperately wanting to believe this child will save the both of you.

“Take my cum baby.” His breath is short, struggling on every word. “Get pregnant... aghh” he grunts as he finally cums.

You feel him let go, huge amounts of thick cum rush inside of you, filling you up to the brink, reaching the deepest part of you, where life can possibly sprout.

You throw your head back, toes curled up and eyes rolled back as you bite hard on your bottom lip, fully enjoying the delicious full sensation spreading to your body as your heat uncontrollable twitches in a powerful orgasm. 

You moan out his name like a prayer, like a religious mantra. A final vain attempt to make you both right for each other at last.

He crashes his lips onto your, trying to chase away your doubts while you throb around his cock.

“Cum for me baby” he whispers as you slowly ride your high, drunk on the unbearable pleasure he pumped inside you.

Once you both get down he looks at you eyes filled with something you can’t quite describe, something you’ve never seen before… Maybe hope.

“I love you y/n”

“I love you too”

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, hiding the tears rolling on your cheeks. 

Even if it has to end in despair and sorrow, if it’s with him then you are willing to give it a pointless try once again. Because even if it’s a lie you love the way he looks at you when he says these three simple words.

General Masterlist 

Tag list:  @lovebuginlove @calamell @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika @making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @myexoobsession @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @nana-banana @mingiandbaconjam @chanyeolscoon (if you don't like angst i'm sorry for tagging you 😭)

A/N: There we go! Please tell me if I honored IM’s amazing song. I listened to it around 5000 times. So guys... can I write angst or not? I don't really know if I like it 🤔

[imerdwarf]

I've Given All I Can

Summary: You and Bucky feel as though you're pulling apart from each other, your worse fears come true one night at a party but is it too late?

Warnings: Low self esteem, angst, language, Bucky is an idiot, tears, heartbreak, implied smut (but nothing explicit) at the end 💜

Author's Notes: Happy evening 😍 this is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club's Drunk Drabbles 💜

Bucky has that unreadable look in his eyes again as he watches you change clothes. Your jeans feel too tight around your waist and your shirts pull across your stomach, accentuating the bulge from your food baby from all the binge eating junk you've eaten the past few weeks to help you feel better.

In truth, eating like that made you feel worse about yourself. You thought of yourself as the worst human alive because you couldn't stop it, you couldn't stop anything from going wrong with your body and your mind was in overdrive.

Your self esteem issues were eating away at you, you felt helpless as if you were screaming into a void alone and nobody was around to help you. Your mind would play the cruelest tricks. For example, how your mind would pick up on the facial expressions your boyfriend Bucky would give other women in the compound. He looks at them how he used to look at you when you first started dating, and it's been a while since you have seen that look from him.

For Bucky it was completely the opposite though, he's felt this distance between the two of you for a while and figured it was because you weren't interested in him anymore. He knows of the stress you've been under, how your insecurities are eating away at your thoughts and he longs for the day he sees your beautiful smile again.

He just knows it won't happen anytime soon and quite frankly, he doesn't even know what he should do anymore. Trying to talk to you was impossible because you would only grunt in response or not pay any attention to what he was asking or you would just change subjects which has been the case lately.

He doesn't know what do to, he wishes you would just tell him what he needs to do to make you love him again. He stares blankly at you as you change into jeans and a sweater, making no attempt to look away when you catch his stare and that look on his face.

Bucky stands and leaves you alone in the room, the door closes behind him and it's then the waterworks come to life. Tears roll freely down your cheeks as you crumble to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, you rock back and forth feeling your heart break in your chest. You would give anything to have Bucky wrap his arms around you right now, it just seems he feels disgusted being near you and touching you.

While you were crying in your shared room, Bucky made his way to the kitchen where he saw Sam sitting on the stool sipping a coffee and scrolling through some files on the glass tablet.

"Rough mission?" Bucky asks, taking a seat opposite him and playing with the strings on his sweatpants.

"You could say that," Sam coughs into his bent elbow and looks over at Barnes to notice that worrying look in his eyes, "what's wrong?" He adds with a frown.

"Nothin'" Bucky sighs and runs a hand over his face. He looks tired and almost defeated.

"Come on man, I'm good for some things ya know!" Sam chuckles to encourage the man.

"It's just me and Y/N, things aren't... so good lately, feel like we're drifting apart." Bucky sniffles, saying it out loud was almost reality.

"Well, as your friend, I would advise you to sit down and talk about things, tell each other what's on your mind and hug it out even." Sam has a point but he doesn't understand that Bucky has tried to talk to you about this in the past and got nowhere. Now you were barely speaking.

"It's not that simple Sam," Bucky sighs and shakes his head.

Now it's Sam's turn to sigh, "nothing ever is simple. Just act like an adult and talk like adults, it's gonna be alright, man! Anyway, I got to go. I have a support group to motivate, let me know how things go." Sam grabs his backpack from the stool next to him and leaves quickly, leaving Bucky to think over his irrational plan that he thinks might work.

1 week later

Tonight is the night of one of Stark's extravagant parties and everyone is invited. It's also the night Bucky has a plan that he wants to execute to hopefully bring the two of you back together again.

He stands in front of the floor length mirror and adjusts his bowtie for the umpteenth time. His black suit is tailored to fit him perfectly and he knows how much you love him in black.

Your own dress was a gift from Natasha. It showed a lot of cleavage and thigh, normally, a dress like this was not something you would have chosen.

And by the time you got downstairs to the party, the room was already crowded ranging from the less fortunate to the billionaires. You had to shimmy past a couple of people to reach the bar, you were hoping your dress might spark some interest from Bucky tonight but he's nowhere to be seen.

You take a seat on the barstool and order a martini, the bartender hands you the drink and you thank him with a smile, spinning on your seat to sip your drink and scan the room. A boisterous laugh grabs your attention and your eyes follow the offensive sound. Your eyes narrow in on the gorgeous blonde standing in the corner, but it's the man she's with that makes your heart drop into your stomach.

It's Bucky. And her hands are holding onto his biceps as he presumably tells her one of his jokes. He's smiling, he's laughing and it's the happiest you have seen him for a while. Was he miserable because of you? Were you holding him back from happiness? The scene unfolding was answering all of your questions and more when Bucky takes her hand in his and pulls her to the dance floor to dance alongside the other 'couples'. They look so happy and so lost in each others eyes that your eyes well up and the room feels like it's closing in and suffocating you.

You can't breath, you need air and fast. You slam your glass down on the bar and stand up, taking off your heels so you can get out of here even quicker. You don't excuse yourself as you barge past the happy smiling attendees.

Wanda sees everything unfold from where she was stood. She saw the way Barnes had approached the blonde woman and started flirting with her as soon as you arrived at the party. She also sees he's none the wiser of the fact you've already left the scene upset and heartbroken.

Wanda approaches the blind idiot and pulls him away from the woman he's with. "what the -"

"I could ask you the same question Barnes! What the hell do you think you're playing at? You're cheating on Y/N now? My best friend?" Wanda is seething, and the urge to punch the smirk of his face is harder to resist.

"Did it work?" He asks with a smug grin looking around the party.

"Oh yeah, if your plan was to break her heart and make her cry, it worked perfectly!"

Bucky frowns and his lip quivers slightly, "nononono! That wasn't the plan! Fuck, where did she go?"

"Who knows." Wanda shrugs, she wouldn't tell him even if she did.

Bucky rushes past her and starts to look in every room until he finds you slouched against the wall of one of the vacant offices down the hall.

"Baby!" Bucky rushes in and kneels next to you, his big arms immediately pull you into his chest. You try to pull away but his grip is too strong and you end up sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. "I'm so sorry baby."

You pull your face away to breathe, your palms flat against his chest, "you're leaving me," you croak, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. The room around you feels like it's spinning, this feels like a really bad dream.

Bucky staggers for a moment, digging his fingertips further into your flesh. "Absolutely not baby! No way! I'm so sorry you gotta believe me doll, I was just trying to make you jealous because I thought you weren't interested in me anymore and-"

"I thought you weren't interested in me!" You argue, fighting back the fresh tears threatening to fall, "you haven't touched me in so long I didn't know what to think."

"Then it's my fault doll, I read the whole situation wrong and I should have talked to you like an adult, please let me make it up to you and I promise I'll show you just how much I love you and want to touch you." His nose nudges against yours and his face dips slightly to capture your lips. His lips are soft and you quietly moan into his mouth as he spins you both around and presses you up against the door ready to make good on his promise.

Taglist: @smokeybluebrooke-lyn @pinkdiamond1016 @whatrambles @bestofbucky @ladyeliot

[elias-code]

Two Left Hooves [2/7] - Choice II

Choose your own adventure ~ “What’s Better than Breakfast in Bed?“

Characters: Technoblade x gn!reader, Philza

Summary: You've asked Techno whether he wants to sleep with you or not, and he makes up some excuse to join you. He cuddles with you into the night, but you're greeted with a nightmare, Dream's voice warns you of something to come, but refuses to specify what. Techno pulls you out of the dream and you sleep undisturbed until he greets you with breakfast in the morning.

Warnings: Cussing, Nightmares

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE INTRO AND CHOSEN YOUR ROUTE, DO SO HERE: INTRO

— The Bird —

"Techno-" I said, kneeling to his level, "What do you want? I mean, you can sleep with me if you want to."

He paused, expecting a quip, but instead, I'd forced him to choose for himself.

"Seeing as you’re already cold, even with the fire..." He clicked his tongue, testing his words, "I want to keep you warm."

Holy shit that's adorable, I thought. Techno never let emotions shine through his words. When I talked to him, I had to constantly read between the lines. His monotone speech was, I supposed, a product of his repressed emotions. Ever since meeting him, I felt like it was my responsibility to dismantle the fortress he’d put around his heart.

"Excuses, excuses," I teased, “but you’re right, I’m gonna freeze without you.” I smiled at him. He let out a small huff, but his expression was unreadable.

"It's not an excuse, it's a reason," he said, turning to me, "They're desperate for me to be at the banquet, but they won't let me go alone, alright? If I let you freeze to death, it wouldn't make for great PR."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, standing up. I offered a hand to him, to help him stand, "Thank you for not killing me so you don't have to go," I whispered.

"No problem, heh," he took my hand and stood, "I'll be back in a bit, alright?"

"Where are you going?"

"Just downstairs, get ready for bed," He said, dodging the question. He let go of my hand and awkwardly pat me on the head, leaving the room.

I didn't know how the ball was going to work out. On the one hand, Techno would go to the banquet and it'd be as awkward as it's always been between us. On the other, I'd manage to tear down his walls and reveal his emotions, changing our relationship forever.

Techno presented himself as untouchable, calling himself 'the blood god,' but I saw him hold back tears when Tommy betrayed him. I saw the destruction his wrath brought upon L'Manburg. He has compassion, but if he bottled them up any longer, there's no telling who he'd become. He couldn't keep letting everything out as anger, or we'd all pay the price.

I dressed for the night, setting his cape on the back of his chair. I chose a simple shirt and pants, the thickest ones I'd brought with me. I was still cold, but I took the opportunity to inspect his room.

He lives in the attic, a small loft with sparse decoration. What little furniture he did have was extravagant and of the highest quality. His desk chair was made of dark oak wood, the velvet red cushion was well worn. The table matched, a knife was stuck in it, too hard for me to pull out. It was dull, probably used to open letters.

His bed was made, probably just before I got there since it was only roughly put together. Next to it, there was a giant bookshelf pushed against the wall. Most of the books were unmarked and dusty, but a few of them were clean, recently put back. The Art of War, Odyssey, and the Iliad were among them. Their spines were worn and multiple bookmarks were sticking out of the top of each.

"Do you read much?" Techno asked, startling me.

"Um, oh," I stuttered, "I don't know where to get books from, so..."

"No?" He reached over and pulled The Art of War out of the bookshelf.

"I live out in the middle of nowhere," I shrugged, "The only thing I read is my mail."

"That's pretty sad," he said matter-of-factly.

"I have plenty of things to occupy my time with, Technoblade," I crossed my arms.

"Mhm," he handed me the book. Its cover was more worn than its spine, the old leather was cracking at the corners. "Take that home with you, I've read it a thousand times. Might come in handy."

"I suppose I can use it to knock intruders out," I flipped it over. It was like a brick in my hand, heavy and hard enough to break a window. "Thanks."

I yawned, realising how late it's gotten. I left my house almost a full twenty-four hours ago and I rode endlessly until I got here. I was exhausted.

I walked over to my pile of stuff and carefully placed the book in my bag. I then took a bit of a running start and jumped onto the bed, landing in a pile of furs and knitted blankets. "Don't wake me up in the morning," I muttered.

Techno came over and sat on the bed next to me. "I'll try not to," He said.

I shuffled under the blankets and shivered. The furs were enough to keep my body heat in, but I wouldn't tell Techno that. I heard him pick the covers up to join me. Soon, I felt his arms wrap around me, his chest to my back.

My cheeks flushed bright pink and I stifled a giggle. The blood god is snuggling with me... This is not what I thought was going to happen when I joined the server. I smiled and put my hand on his, wrapped around my waist. No one was going to believe this ever happened.

--- The Bird's Dream ---

He’s there, he’s right there. I need to go see him, I need to get there before it’s too late. There are so many people in the way, I’m not going to be there in time to dance. Who are all these people? They whisper about him as if they know him, as if they watch his every step and live in his mind. Left and right, they whisper things about me, about him.

“Did you hear, he’s going to the ball!”

“Oh and with that beautiful bird,”

“If only they knew. Tsk.”

Their eyes were unmoving, fixated on me. I shoved my way through the crowd, suddenly falling into the void.

“Did you really think it was going to be that simple? That you’d just seduce him with the snap of your fingers? He’s not a dog, he can’t be trained. He’s a wild animal. He’s unstable, He’ll break your heart, little bird.” Dream's voice boomed, echoing in my mind.

"Who are you?" I tried to yell, but only air came out.

"I'm the one who whitelisted you, the one who trusted you."

"What does that mean?" I was desperate to stop, to wake up, but I was falling infinitely.

"That's not for you to know, Puppet. You're here because I have a job for you, nothing more. You're the only one that can get through to him."

"What- What's my job? Why am I here?"

"You'll know soon enough-"

--- Technoblade ---

I slept soundly until I felt them stir under me. It sounded like they were having a nightmare, they muttered my name. What the hell are they dreaming about? I pulled them closer, brushing my hand through their hair. I wanted to wake them softly, so they'd forget about whatever was just racing through their mind.

They took a deep breath, signalling their waking. I continued to stroke their hair, "You ok, Bird?"

They mumbled an 'ok' and turned to face me, burying their face in my neck. I did the same and took deep breaths for them to follow. Within minutes, they were asleep in my arms. It felt right.

I didn't have the heart to admit it. If I did, I'd just have to tear it all away again, I'd be the one thing I truly hated. I'd be a traitor.

Don't get attached, Techno. We get to break hearts now, not just crush them! If you name this one, you'll regret it. Nothing screams ruin more than you do.

-

I woke up to birds chirping outside my window. The weather had finally let up, now I could finally get real work done. It took me a couple of seconds to remember the person fast asleep in my arms. A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it.

Carefully, I picked up the covers and snuck out of bed. I wanted to keep my promise not to wake them up, and so I immediately left the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards as I descended the stairs to the kitchen.

I pulled half a dozen eggs out of their box and cracked and cooked them over the fire, adding the occasional spice so it wasn't too bland. I toasted some bread and stuck it all on separate plates. Four eggs for me, two for them. I was two times their size, after all. The image of them laying on my bed flashed in my mind, making me smile. I shook it off. I couldn't get attached any more than I was now.

I pulled myself together and went back upstairs with the food. I put my plate on my desk, pulling the knife out of it and stashing it in my drawer. I walked over to the bed, placing their food on the nightstand. I reached over and gently pat them on the head, slowly waking them.

"Good morning," I whispered.

They opened their eyes and mumbled "G'morn'n,"

"I made you some eggs," I said, still petting their head, "You should eat them while they're hot,"

"Ok," they sat up and I moved back over to my desk, sitting in my chair.

They yawned and stretched, their shirt raising over their waist, exposing their belly button. I looked away and busied myself with my food.

Oh, look at them, they're so cute... so naive... so vulnerable.

I wanted to scream at the voices to shut up. They had been plaguing me ever since Phil suggested I invite them. For some reason, they had a vendetta against the bird. They wanted to see them suffer to, in turn, make me suffer. The voice's presence itself was enough to turn my hair grey, but this added a whole extra layer to my agony.

"Techno?"

"Hmm?" I didn't look up from my food.

"Did you make me breakfast in bed?"

I looked at them, hiding my embarrassment, "You told me not to wake you, but I was hungry, and I thought you'd like some too."

They blushed and shrugged. "You know me so well," they sighed.

"And I thought you'd appreciate the origin of the eggs," I added.

"Oh, and where are they from?" Their mouth was full, making them mumble a bit. They looked a bit scared.

"Well," I leaned towards them in my chair, "They're from The egg."

"Bullshit," they called, stuffing their face with more eggs. Maybe I should have given them more.

I laughed, genuinely, "They're just chicken eggs, I doubt the egg would taste very good,"

We ate and joked like nothing was wrong in the world. They were so good at making me feel at home, but the voices were eager to remind me of my past. I wouldn't let them spoil this. What we had was new to me, and I wouldn't just lay down and take the voices at their word. Gods know they aren't worth their weight.

— Philza —

“Hey, you two…” I creaked open the front door to Techno’s cabin.

The bird smiled at me from the breakfast bar, “Hey Phil, good morning!” They seemed very chipper for having just woken up. Both of them were already dressed in the day’s clothes, excluding overcoats that hung on the hooks by the door.

“Hello, Phil,” Techno nodded at me. His hair was neatly braided and they were both already dressed.

"How was your morning?"

"Techno made me breakfast!" They laughed. That was a surprise, he didn't even cook for me.

"Ooh, nice," I said, "What's better than breakfast in bed, eh?"

"Riches beyond your wildest dreams," Techno chuckled. I guess they were both in a good mood this morning.

“It’s nice to see you, mate,” I said to the bird, wandering over to join them at the breakfast bar. I sat down on a stool next to them, putting the notebook on the counter in front of me. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Ooh, what is it?” They said, sliding the notebook over to them. I reached over and opened it to the page I was referring to.

“The banquet has a dress code, and I’m assuming you don’t have anything that matches it,” Everything they wore was forest green or yellow, sometimes they had black or white clothes, but it was few and far between.

“What’s the dress code?”

“It’s blue, black, white, and gold,” I pointed to two drawings on the page, “I’m thinking either I make you a dress or a tuxedo, or I can mix the two. A tux top with a skirt. What do you think?”

They pressed their lips together, surveying their options. I tried my best to draw them, although they were rough sketches of a fancier design in my head. I could draw buildings and architecture for my blueprints, but flow-y things were not as easy.

/// UNDER CONSTRUCTION, BRRRRR ///

Choose your garment! It only affects the story slightly, I promise! There is no gender attached to them, it just changes how you’ll interact with people :)

Dress

Tux-dress

Tuxedo

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

SCARRED HANDS

Iwaizumi Hajime (Older) x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings:  Mafia AU related plot, including drugs. gun traffic and homicide. Violence. SERIOUS TALK ABOUT GAMBLING, ADDICTION, DEBT AND FAMILY ISSUES/FORGIVENESS. Hajime is older, about early forties while Reader is in her twenties, so: Age gap.  Slow-burn (I think?). Presence of an OC named Rei in a side-ship with Mattsun. In this first part there’s no smut.

Part One | Part Two (soon) Word count: 7.5k

Note: This is my second contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel​, @pleasantanathema​ and @linestrider​. Thank you so much Claudia, @thisisthehardestthing​​​, for beta-ing this and all your amazing comments who have made me scream so much i’m pretty sure my neighbors are wary for my sanity. There’s a side OC/Mattsun here that is my small gift to @mixedhell​​ for everything she has always done for me and for being such a great beta, friend and enabler. <3

I was trying to not break this in two parts, but as it seems my brain keeps hellbent on putting more plot in this, it has become unavoidable. Uh, enjoy? This is my excuse of a fic to just love Iwaizumi at any and all given opportunity! Second part in the works but with no release date yet. <3

Iwaizumi never wanted this life. 

He thinks about it while cleaning his bloody knuckles with a wet cloth, taking care to surround the parts where the skin had broken, scars over scars to the point that he practically did not know what was old and what was recent. The pain didn't bother him anymore, a constant in his life to the point that he barely registered the new injuries. That was the life of the second-in-command of the Seijoh Mafia.

He lived a poor childhood, violent teenage years. At the time, he didn’t have much choice in resorting to crime. It was easy, even; he was good with his hands, fast and built broad and strong since he was young. When his only and best friend told him he wanted to be the Boss, he’d almost laughed before seeing that familiar glint in his friend's eyes – that pure, fierce determination Oikawa had been practically born with– and, void of a dream for himself, he pledged himself to that of his only family.

“Take him to the back,” Hajime tells his trusted duo, who watched over him and the man they’ve been working for the past hour. Matsukawa nods shortly and puts out the cigarette he was smoking, still in half, on the nearest surface, before addressing the bloody man tied to a chair.

“What are you going to do now?” Hanamaki asks from the entrance threshold, not looking at him but rather to the night sky above them outside the deposit in the outskirts of the town. His joint is ending, sweet smoke blowing out and swirling up. 

“I’ll tell Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says like it was obvious. “He’s gonna have to be more careful with his companies.”

Hanamaki snorts while smiling. “Not that he’ll listen.”

Hajime shrugs, throwing the blood-stained rag back without a care for where it’ll land. “That’s his problem.” Then he sighs, looking up at the smoke from Hanamaki’s joint swirling around the wind. “The mole is ours.”

--

Iwaizumi has a special place, if he could call it that. 

He discovered the owner had died with consternation, when he went to the place at his usual time and found it, for what was probably the first time in more than a decade, closed. The diner operated until the ignoble hours of the night, which is why, since Iwaizumi was still a soldier, he used to spend the last hours of his day or the early hours of his mornings there, in what he’d call his little break in between work; his moment of calm even on the most eventful nights of his violent life.

Since he had risen the ranks rather quickly, the habit had given way to certain care with the frequency in which he visited the place, although the time had little variation and was always after two in the morning. 

It was the moment when the night calmed down, the clubs and parties booming, the restaurants that opened at early hours already closed; the brave few passers-by running to their safe places on empty streets while the cars running through the streets lessened by the minute. This was the time when night-shift policemen were already tired of both the events of their shift and the long worked hours, nodding off in their cars.

The diner was on a street just a few blocks away from the heaviest area of ​​the city, where clubs and parties continued until the bright hours of the morning; the drug traffic in these places had been feeding the old mafia veins for decades, since before Iwaizumi, and he was certain he would meet his end way before it did. 

The place was small, nothing much, two big windows beyond the door showing the old, almost vintage interior, careless by the owner who never paid much attention to the decorative aspect of the place. Twenty years ago, when Iwaizumi went from being a simple associate to a soldier, just beginning his life as a man, the place was busier, almost famous - and even then the nights were always the quietest shift, the time where degenerates inherited the city.

Iwaizumi didn't know exactly what had disappointed him so much when he found out that old Lou had gone for the better. Lou wasn't even the old man’s real name - he just adopted it once the name of the diner -- Lou’s Diner -- ended up merging with his in the daily life of being the business owner. Iwaizumi was a constant presence in the place enough to know that Lou, in fact, was the name of the old man's wife, who had died young.

In fact, Iwaizumi spent the days following the discovery of the man’s passing trying to figure out where the place would end - Lou had never said anything about family, but there was always the possibility that the business had been pledged in warrant of some debt and if not, there was the bank. The old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call an exemplary business manager.

A surprise came again when Iwaizumi drove past the place during the day and for the first time in three weeks, there was movement inside the diner - and his first thought is theft. 

It wouldn’t be surprising, considering both the neighborhood and the fact that with the place closed three weeks before, every thug in the street knows that everything is still there.

Iwa sighs, then makes a u-turn so he can park close to the alley on the diner’s corner. He’s surprised, but he realizes it is, in fact, not the case. Unless the young woman holding a broom and looking around as she rolls up the sleeves of a loose oversized T-shirt over normal jeans shorts were, somehow, a phenomenal smuggler.

Against his better judgment, Iwaizumi gets out of his BMW and steps carefully onto the sidewalk, checking his surroundings with practiced ease. The glass doors of the diner are wide open, sidewalk wet and leaking soapy water into the street. Iwa crosses through it with little care, pausing for a moment while the oblivious girl inside keeps brushing away.

“Hello,” Iwaizumi salutes from the wide open doors, perhaps to also let the place breathe some air after the days closed. You startle, the broom in your hand flying to the floor with a loud crash. 

“Holy fuck!” you yelp, turning around with both hands in front of your body. “Are you trying to kill me, dude?” 

Iwaizumi almost chuckles, the corners of his lips turning up. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, showing them in front of his body as a sign of peace. And it isn’t like he can’t easily kill you and anyone you may have inside with just them.

“Oh god. My heart,” you murmur, clenching your shirt over your chest while sucking in a few breaths. Your eyes finally come up to his. “Sorry, I think I was just too distracted.”

Hajime nods. He isn’t a man to say sorry twice. “I was just passing by and noticed the diner open. It’s been closed for some weeks, so I was just checking.”

“Oh, sure.” Your mouth opens in a small ‘o’, and Iwaizumi is surprised at how it got his attention. Pretty lips on an even prettier face. “Yeah… I’m reopening it this week. I just need to fix some things around here.”

Iwaizumi gives you a once over. Discreetly. He leans against the doorframe, curiosity winning him over.  “So, you bought it?”

“What?” you laugh, hand coming to wipe the sweat from your brow. “No. I inherited it."

Iwaizumi assumes that he was unable to hide his surprise by the way your lips move to form an amused smile.

“Ha, yes, most people have the same reaction as you.” You bend to grab the broom in the ground and Iwaizumi’s eyes tread for a second too long along the spanse of your body while you’re not looking. “Which is funny, and also tells a whole tale about the old man.”

“I suppose it does,” Iwaizumi nods once while speaking.

He looks over the place, sees the few changes being done; the paint cans on the ground, the boxes by the corner, the shelfs being replaced and the new color of the upholstered sofas. You in the middle of it all -- the new and the old. 

“I’ll leave you to your cleaning, then. It’s good to know the place isn’t closing.” 

Before you can say anything else, he’s already taking his leave. 

You turn around to thank him but Iwaizumi is already far down the sidewalk, not sparing a glance at you once his back is turned. Your head bends sideways almost involuntary, eyes threading the expanse of his broad back, clad in a beautiful light blue social shirt, rolled sleeves over bulging forearms, with black slacks and expensive looking shoes. While you hoped you didn’t stare before, now you are free to do so and wow, that is a beautiful male specimen if you ever saw one. 

Your first thought is that he didn’t belong in here -- the scenario of a beaten up street and a mildly abandoned diner, in the middle of the day on the foul part of the city. Then again, he looks rather at ease, familiarized, and it isn’t like you can know someone from just one look. 

If anything, a good looking man like that always comes with a catch.

“Hey,” your friend comes through the kitchen doors, looking pretty much like you, tired and sweaty after the morning deep cleaning. “What's going on here? I heard something but I was on the phone”

“Oh,” you say, then grin mischievously at her. “A hot piece of man just passed by asking about the diner.”

“No!” your friend almost cried, lips pressing together in a pout. “See! This is why I keep being single! I never get to see any hotties from the fucking kitchen.”

“Hey, not my fault you decided to be a cook.”

--

Iwaizumi tells himself he’s just checking on the place he likes.

It’s out of a weird misplaced sentimentality, he reasons. He’s been going there for years after all. He’s checking out the new owner, that’s it. The young woman who somehow inherited Lou’s bar. The pretty young woman who was redecorating and cleaning the place that probably didn’t get any love for the last fifteen years. And that’s what Iwaizumi is telling himself when he crosses the city at late hours of the night because the first thing he needs to know is if you’re stupid enough to actually open the place until the ungodly hours of mornings like the old man used to.

And, sure enough, you are. 

It’s past three in the morning when Iwaizumi parks on the other side of the street, but the regulars pour in like clockwork at the sight of the open diner -- old fellas, mostly, and some passersby who work at night. The whores, and the tired workers, all mingling the later it gets. Iwaizumi counts five clients, which is a busy night, and somehow he struggles to find security in your arrangement. 

It’s a weird feeling to have for someone -- worry -- and for all the constant preoccupation he has going on in his life with Oikawa, he’s sure he hasn't felt that particular brand of it in some time. 

For that same reason, Hajime turns around and leaves.

A week later and he’s back. 

This time it’s earlier in the night, just past midnight and the diner is empty save for three regulars he knows well enough. Iwaizumi hates to admit it, but he’s curious; Matsukawa told him that the place had been closing at four and reopening at eleven, with not exactly lots of clients, but with enough patrons to not be discouraged. 

But it was the fact that the man depicted the place as “nice” that got Iwaizumi interested.  Mattsun is not the kind to throw empty comments like those and there was a glint in this man's eyes that made him suspicious. If a small hint of jealousy sparks on Iwa’s chest, he says it’s for the place.

He signals for Makki to turn a curve so he can get off on the other side of the street and tells him to park somewhere out of sight. He doesn’t like to have the BMW close, working as a beacon; the fact Iwa already dares to have a routine place is trouble enough. 

“Bring me a coffee when you come back.” The strawberry blonde tells him while perching himself over the car window, driving off before Iwaizumi can give him a nasty stare. Iwa takes his time on the pavement directly across the diner, lighting a cigarette while moving to cross the street. 

The bell that rings when he crosses the door threshold surprises him for a moment, bringing the stares of everyone inside to him. Some of the old regulars nod his way, and Iwaizumi nods in return, a stiff greeting but one they grew used to in the years of sharing the space.

You look eager, eyebrows shooting up as if you’re not expecting to see him standing in the middle of the place like that. Then, your lips turn up into a smile and Iwaizumi almost misses the sentiment behind it. It’s been far too long since someone looks this pleased into seeing him anywhere. 

Well, with the exception of Oikawa. But that’s because he normally shows up to save the man’s stupid ass.

Iwaizumi walks over to his usual spot, in the back, by the window and sits on the newer looking red sofa. The scratched old table looks bright with new polishing. He notes the changes, appreciates them even: the cleaner looking designs despite the vintage diner ambience, the cream walls, the new smell of good food and well brewed coffee. 

The ground is clean for the first time in a few years, the glass windows and doors looking good and there’s an overall different air around the small place. It feels good. Iwaizumi isn’t used to it. You come close to him, no uniform but jeans and a loose white shirt with a black apron tied around your middle, a coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Hello there. Good night -- or day, depending on how your life works.” Your smile is disconcerting. You signal with your head to the coffee. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No worries.” You pour some for him and ask if he wants milk or cream, which he doesn’t. Iwaizumi likes his coffee black. “Can I bring the menu?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no. But he’s curious about what you’re doing with the place, so he nods. Again, you smile while nodding and leaving, and Iwaizumi is baffled by your disposition to be nice at this hour. The old mas was more of a fuck-it kinda person, so it’s a small whishplash to have actual service in here.

Before you leave, however, you turn back and smile at him in what Hajime can only define as playfully. 

“Glad you finally decided to come in and give us a shot.” Your eyes are bright with mirth, proud of yourself for being so observant, and in the late hours of night he feels charged. “I promise you it’s not so bad.”

Oh, Hajime thinks as his face feels slightly warm, a twitch on his fingertips while he looks at your pretty face. This can’t be good.

You wait a bit. Seeing as the whole movement inside the diner changes with the small addition of one man at the corner table. You realise people haven’t sat on that table during the late nights, even when Iwaizumi had yet to even enter the place before.

So, you brace yourself with all the courage you’ve been mustering, and pretend to offer him a refill of coffee while walking over. You’ve been conjuring up theories for him since you saw him the first time, perched on the doors while you were cleaning, and it didn’t help that you kept seeing his car passing around the place for some time before he finally decided to come to the diner.

“Are you an old regular or something?” you ask while refilling his cup with hot, freshly brewed coffee. You’d lie if anyone asked if you did a whole new coffee pot just to find an opening to talk to him.

“Why do you ask?” His eyes are always so deep, the musky green color seemingly pulling you in, black irises eating you up. Your pulse quickens but you hold his eyes on yours even as your face grows warm.

“It’s just that you’re always here.” The words tumble out of your mouth quickly as you deposit the coffee pot on the table, looking at him almost eagerly. “Most of my regulars seem to know you and leave you alone. So I thought that maybe, you know, you may come here for the old times sake.”

He holds your eyes with his for a moment, then looks down to the cup of coffee while he brings it to his lips. 

“I guess you could say that.” 

It feels like a period. Like he isn’t much for small talk, so you pat the apron in front of you, pick up the coffee pot from the table and nod while looking back to the counter to mask your disappointment with such a short conversation.

“Hmm, got’cha.”

“So, the old man was your father?” His voice picks up a tone higher and you turn with big eyes to him. He looks quiet, observant while he looks up at you and somehow, without nothing to hold on, you decide you want to talk to him some more.

“No, I never knew my dad. The stupid man was my grandpa.” 

“Hm,” Iwaizumi nods, his eyes still on you. For some reason you can’t stand the silence, so you keep talking.

“He’d left the business for me and if I'm honest things were not going great where I was so,” you shrug. “I thought about giving this a shot.”

“And your mom?” His eyes on yours make you feel pressured and also lacking, your mouth working before your mind can really think. “She’s been dead since I was a kid.”

He blinks, surprised, and when he speaks he sounds so genuine you smile, “sorry to hear that.” 

“No problem. It’s life, right?” you ask rhetorically, an unwavering smile on your face and bright eyes despite the forlorn subject. Hajime’s chest does something weird at the sight, eyes moving down to the coffee mug by his hands.

Is it? Hajime doesn’t know. But he also hasn't had parents or any kind of family besides Oikawa and the trouble duo, so he nods, murmuring agreement. You leave him alone for the rest of the night, but not without getting his name and introducing yourself; and you do it mostly because you’re still unsure about the man. He’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself while drinking his coffee and sometimes ordering something he never finishes, but other than that, he doesn’t do much. Which, despite that, doesn’t change the fact he sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the place. 

His clothes are expensive even if they’re simple; his watch and rings glints under the diner lights, catching attention; and his eyes are like two black gunbarrels pointed straight at you in a face with a jawline sharp enough to cut. 

He makes you feel slightly unnerved and a whole lot interested. 

 Hajime wonders, as he exits the dinner and walks the short distance to where Makki has parked the car, if he has enough reasons to be worried about you. He enters the back of the expensive black BMW, gives the annoying blonde his promised coffee and nods so he can start driving. Iwaizumi settles on the backseat and turns to look at Hanamaki, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

“Makki.” 

“Yes, Boss.” The answer comes immediately.

“Is this place in anyone's rotation?” Makki’s eyes thread to the mirror to look Hajime back.

“Old Lou’s dinner?”

“Yes.”

Makki’s brows furrow in thought while he seems to think it over. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.” His eyes lock on Hajime’s figure through the rearview mirror and Iwa counts the seconds until he asks, since his curiosity always wins. ”Why?”

“Check it for me.”  It’s the end of conversation, and Makki knows. He nods.

“‘kay, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi’s thoughts are brewing, his brows furrowing deeply while he thinks over the whole exchange from earlier.

In a short conversation of a few minutes, you already unsuspectingly told him that you had no family left, no one to miss you if you’re gone. From that he can infer the easy things -- that you probably live alone, seeing as he’s never seen a boyfriend in the restaurant or calling you while you’re working the counter; that you must either live in your grandpa’s house or a small apartment if you’re trying to make more money by renting the old man’s place; that you probably leave alone after closing the dinner -- and he got all that by an easy small talk over coffee. 

Iwa’s lips turn sour while he turns to watch over the streets late at night, the dangerous things that lie in the dark. He ignores that he, himself, is one of them. 

Yes, maybe he should check on you.

--

Iwaizumi observes with a frown while Oikawa waltzes inside his penthouse with his new friend. The woman is, much like all of Oikawa’s partners, beautiful. Luxurious hair and curves, all wrapped in an equally expensive package the color of bright fucking red. Tonight things are less busy in the place, with Iwaizumi and the duo in the living room, while Kunimi keeps watch on the door from his position bended over the counter. Like with everything in his life, the man looks bored and done at the same time.

“I have to give it to him, he does have taste.” Hanamaki points it out unemotionally, his eyes threading along the lady of the moment hanging off Oikawa’s arm. Mattsun looks up from his phone in time to catch a look, his arched brow doing an appearance.

“Yeah, but that’s not new.”

“The idiot blows through women as you do with joints.” Iwaizumi scoffs, twirling his cup of whisky and enjoys the moment to sip his drink. “Which is stupid, both of you.”

“Couldn’t hear your criticism over the sound of you downing that whisky.” Hanamaki pipes in and Mattsun laughs but quickly retrieves himself back to his phone once Iwaizumi gives both of them a nasty glare. 

On the other side of the room, Oikawa parts ways with his company, probably telling the woman to go somewhere inside his apartment while he handles business. His companion’s normally don’t ask much about what he does -- the less they know, the less they lie.

While Iwaizumi does understand the appeal of having someone to warm his bed at night like that, it just seems ridiculous to parade them around as Oikawa does; as if they’re a walking vitrine of his power and money, clad in so many brilliants, Hajime wonders if Oikawa can even see them through the shine.

Iwaizumi sighs when Oikawa finally moves in their direction, crossing his leg over his thigh as he stretches his back against the chair backrest. He drinks the rest of the whisky in one go.

 “I see you already treated yourself to some beverage, Iwa-chan.”

The ridiculous nickname stuck, even after all these years, no matter how many glares and curses Hajime threw his way– and Oikawa has seen Hajime kill men before. Still, the brunette stays unwavering in his teasing -- and Iwa has made arrangements to make sure no one but him feels free to use that denomination.

“Good whisky ain’t making me nicer, shittykawa.” There’s also the fact Iwaizumi maintains his mockery with his friend, even as most of the Mob now call him Boss. He supposes it’s good to have few good childhood memories, if one can.

“At least it makes you less grumpy.” 

Iwaizumi wonders if people would believe him if he told them the Boss pokes his tongue out and flops on the sofa then again, Oikawa’s charm is in being unwavering himself. When Oikawa crosses his leg over his knee and blinks feral, focused eyes over Iwaizumi, it’s easy to see the beast that brought him into the position as the chief in command of the Seijoh Mafia. “So, what did you have to tell me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“You’re being reckless,” Iwa starts, calm. “I’ve told you about being careful with your companion’s while I’m busy handling that subject.”

Oikawa pretends not to listen, falling back on his big chair without a care in the world. 

“She’s a friend!” His face turns smug, even while there’s a small whine in his voice. It’s a stark difference from the feral Oikawa Tooru that put fear in the hearts of every Mafia in the bordering neighborhoods where they acted and climbed the ranks so fast, he became the head of Seijoh mob while only closing in on his early thirties -- and that was ten years ago. Still, around Iwaizumi, Oikawa keeps being the same brat he ever was.

“You need to get laid, Iwa.” The brunette laughs a bit, pouring more whisky for both of them. “How long it’s been, huh? Two decades? That’s how long your frown has been etched onto your face.”

Makki and Mattsun try to hide their smiles, but it’s futile.

“Don’t worry about my love life.”

“Love life?” Now Oikawa laughs, hand smacking his knee in his amusement. “I’m talking fucking, Iwa. We don’t have time for love.”

“Another reason why you shouldn’t worry about what doesn’t pertain to you.”

“Ohh~” Iwaizumi hates that he saw the singsong coming, “such big words. Gosh, that must mean it’s been years without action down there.”

“Why the worry, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, voice turning deep, eyes threading over Oikawa’s face. That has happened -- and ended, but it didn’t mean the two men didn’t play around it sometimes.

“Is the sex you’ve been getting so bad, you’ve been worried about mine?” Iwa scoffs, drinks a full mouth of whisky and turns to look at Oikawa once again. 

“You look too old to be getting any action,” Oikawa mocks him, snickering behind his glass. “Look at those lines and wrinkles, oh gosh Iwa, we’re the same age, you’re making me look bad.”

“Shut up, trashykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I’m just going to tell you this time: fucking behave. I’m looking into the mole, but you need to watch your back.”

“I thought that was your job, though.”

“Makes it a bit fucking hard when you bring home a diferent friend every night. Babysitting a toddler would be easier than you.” Iwaizumi grumbles and scoffs, finishing his drink in one go. “I’m doing my job. Now listen to me so that I can do it well.”

Iwaizumi slams his glass on the wooden coffee table and stands, the sound loud but not enough to disturb the rest of the men around the place. Maddog does look at Iwaizumi as if thinking what’s the cause for his distress, but the man has learned long ago that Oikawa rattles on everyone's nerves at some point -- Iwa just happens to be ticked more than the rest, a consequence of being friends with the man, he assumes.

Iwa pats his slacks, re-doing the button on his suit and walks away, moving a hand in the air as a way to say goodbye to Oikawa. “Your friend is waiting for you.” 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are behind him before he stops in front of the elevator doors, Kunimi not even looking up as the three of them leave. “Try not to be dead by the morning.”

“I’ll do my best~” Oikawa singsongs back, a carefree smile on his face. 

Mattsun is driving tonight and that means Hanamaki is speaking the whole time, going on about how the Karasuno Mob is growing, potentially able to slip between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa’s territory if they’re not careful. Iwaizumi listens, but doesn’t really offer anything to the discussion; he’s too caught up in his head, wondering about what he’s going to do with Oikawa and how he can flush out the mole as fast as possible until something catches his ear, every thought in his mind freezing at the mention of the diner neighborhood.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Makki stops, looking back through the seat. “Oh, some of ours have been talking about seeing Shiratorizawa around downtown territory.” Makki turns serious, and it happens so rarely that the moment his demeanor shifts, Iwaizumi actually grasps his worries by the simple difference in the air surrounding the blonde. “Johzenji too.”

Now, that’s worrisome. While Seijoh and Shiratorizawa have some shared business in downtown and somewhat of a truce on those places, Johzenji is way too far from its limits, crossing borders they know they should not. Iwaizumi catches sight of how his frown actually caves lines on his forehead and Oikawa’s snickers pops in his mind as if the male was right there, he scoffs but his look is serious.

They can’t leave it that way.

Hajime tells himself that the fact that your face pops in his mind and the thought of a territorial war a few blocks away from the Diner makes his hands constrict into fists, has nothing to do with how fast he decided he must handle it. 

But it gets a little less believable as he orders Matsukawa to keep an eye out on your street, like if it wasn’t clear that by your street -- he meant you.

--

You notice the man staying around.

Actually, you doubt anyone hasn’t noticed the tall man who likes to linger just a bit too much around your diner as if he’s your hired security guard or something. He’s taller than most people, broad and built enough for you to see it in the way his clothes cling to his form, and has this fixation with metal, because both his ears are pierced and his knuckles are always adorned with thick rings. He looks bad, and has a cigarette pending from his lips to crown the look. Which, of course, prompts half the women population who enjoy your diner to look. It probably doesn’t help that despite his aloof behavior he can be quite the charmer.

And you’re suspecting your cook and friend is falling for it.

“If you light that cigarette right now after I’ve just told you to leave and smoke outside, I swear to god I’ll use the fire extinguisher on you, Matsukawa-san.” You always chastise him out of the Dinner once he starts smoking, since Issei has no respect for the very big, very red “no smoking” sign you had to purchase just because of him. He grins at you from his high seat on the counter and lifts his hands in a sign of rendition.

“Okay, honey. I’ll drop it.” 

You eye him very sharply until his fingers finally close around his cigar and he takes it out the clasp of his lips. You watch until he pockets it again in his metal case. Then, you finally blink and nod, turning to enter inside your kitchen. You’ve made the mistake of trusting him before, letting him out of your sight once he signaled defeat when you reprimanded him, just to come out and find him smoking anyway. So, now, you take the extra precautions with him, reason why you open the door without warning to check on him, finding him calmly studying the menu. 

He eyes you and blinks, a big grin splitting his face. 

“I’ll behave,” he crosses a finger over his heart like a scout. ”Promise.” 

You snort, but turn around and enter the kitchen space, yelling at your friend the newest orders, to which she just yells back a fine.

You grab the done plates– buttermilk pancakes and swiss omelette with orange juice and black coffee– and push the door outside with your hip, while calmly balancing everything on your tray. 

It’s a quiet late-morning, most of the regulars have already left for work and you’re dealing with the unusual clients, just three if you count Mattsun.

Once you’re back at the counter, Matsukawa is signaling with the menu for you to come over. 

“So, what’s your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“First, I’d like you to drop the san, it makes me feels fucking old.” 

You tease him just the bit by giving him a pointed look with a very arched eyebrow. 

“Stop it,” he hisses at you, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you fuckin-”

“You are old,” you tell him, pleased with yourself when he hisses as if burned, making you sport a big smile while on it. He’s glaring at you. “See, this is how I feel when I catch you smoking once I tell you not to.”

His lopsided grin is a panty-dropper; too bad you’re thinking about how it would be if someone else grinned at you like that. “Valid.” 

The seconds tick by while you wait for Matsukawa to say his order but he just stares at you as if you’re slowly losing your mind. You sigh, resist the urge to facepalm but do press two fingers into the middle of your forehead in an upwards motion to help with the stress, to look at him again and smile. 

“Your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“Again with the -san? Let me make a deal with you. You call me Issei and I’ll never smoke inside again.”

You eye him suspiciously but ultimately decide it’s a nice deal. 

“Deal,” you say, while jutting your lips out to hide a smile, still looking for hints he may be lying. “And if I catch you smoking inside again I’ll start calling you Jiji.”

Issei’s eyes go large, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline until he coughs and sputters, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The stare-down goes for a few seconds until you end it by saying, “I’ll get your regular,” and turning around to leave.

“This isn’t over!”

“Yeah, yeah, just behave.”

Once you’re in the kitchen, the clattering and noises are loud.

“You should chill a bit before you end up completely mutilating the pans, Rei. Half my money is in your kitchen.”

She throws you a nasty glare from across all the other way by her stove, doing God knows what but whatever it is smells heavenly.

“Do you believe the gall of this idiot outside?”

“Yep,” you chirp, but you eye her closely while she continues. You know her enough to know what’ll happen next.

“He had the fucking nerve to say my food was too salty.”

“Uh,” Escapes your lips, but you narrow your eyes at her, taking in the redness of her face, the way she looks overheated and the gesticulating arms while she walks around using too much strength while opening and closing the kitchen cabinets.

“SALTY!” She hollers to the emptiness of her kitchen, which pretty much makes it echo through the walls. You’re half certain you can hear Matsukawa chuckling outside. You wait for it, by now you know it’s coming. “I’ll show him what the fuck being too salty means.” She keeps going, cranky and beating the pans with that bit too much strength so that the clanks and tinkling sound loud even to you. You wait just a little bit more. “That handsome motherfucker, I’ll fucking deck him with my frying pan!”

And there it is.

You snicker just the tiniest bit, and put the order for his regular. She snatches it from your hand and points a paring knife at you.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She does look fairly threatening, but the thing is that you’ve been on the other side of that knife one too many times to care now.

“Hey, if you like insufferable assholes, who am I to judge?”

“Fuck you.”

--

The movement is slow tonight, the cold weather with a drizzle makes your regulars stay home and the streets stay empty. It’s just a bit past midnight and you already know you’re closing early. Iwaizumi has been seated at his usual spot for a good twenty minutes already and, much like every other night, he’s just doing nothing -- looking over the street, reading the paper, sometimes a book or daring to look at his phone. Rei is still moving around in the kitchen and there’s only one other person in the diner -- an old man eating his soup calmly on the whole other side.

You feel restless; your eyes keep darting to him as if waiting to be caught, definitely not being the subtle person you hope to be, nothing catches your attention when Iwaizumi sits calmly by the window reading the paper and sipping on fresh coffee. Your eyes thread through his broad shoulders, poorly hidden under the fitted black social button up, rolled sleeves showing big, veiny forearms leading to strong, broad hands that seem even bigger when they engulf the coffee mug.

Hajime wears one ring, thick, black and a matching watch that probably costs as much as this whole place. You don’t need to see it to know his dark grey slacks are fitted; you’ve caught sight of it when he entered and you think there’ll be hell on earth before you forget how perfectly it hugs his frame, how delicious his ass is and how his waist is marked, beautifully, by the black belt. You thank the gods that he had already disposed of his suit jacket, or you’d be unable to survive so long.

 You’re probably drooling, so you tear your eyes from him to make yourself a hot cup of coffee and hope that you can pretend the flustered feeling in your insides is from the steaming caffeine quickening your heart. However, seeing as your eyes drag slowly back to him, you think that’s a lost battle. 

You drink a bit, breathe some more and decide to say fuck it. You’re not risking anything -- if he doesn’t want to talk, he can just say so. So you wash your hands, shed your apron and pick your coffee mug back up while walking to him. Before you even tread more than two steps, his deep, hard green eyes are already looking at you. They’re so impenetrable and focused, you wonder if he looks long enough, will he see your mind?

The thought makes your face heat up and you swallow the saliva pooling on your mouth before speaking,“mind if I sit?”

He nods no, but still answers, “go ahead.”

You slide on the seat in front of him, and for a second you regret your choice. Up close and with nowhere else to look, he’s even bigger -- his frame engulfs anything past his shoulders, his eyes demanding the sole focus of yours and you give it to him. But there’s a thought in your mind that helps you fight back the urge to let yourself slide and drown in the pool of deep green.

“So, I've been meaning to ask,” you tread carefully, knowing it’s a minefield ahead. You’ve been alone in this world with just your grandpa for a long time, and he was no saint. You’re no stranger to the fact that his diner has always been in mob-controlled territory. You’ve seen him bullied into paying back gambling loans too many times to not know how a bad man looks, and still, here you are, body warming and trembling just by the sight of what must be the baddest of them all.  “Were you friends with my grandpa or something?”

Iwaizumi looks at you, blinks and then hums a question, slightly furrowed brows his only sign of confusion. “Hm?”

“It’s just that I’ve noticed… that you seem like you’ve been taking care of this place… of me.” You speak while your eyes keep darting between his face and down, a warm feeling seeping from your eyes that makes his brain slow down, too caught up in watching you until he realizes he walked into a tricky question.

Fuck. Think fast, Hajime. 

“We weren’t exactly friends. But he was a mean card player and he got a lot of money out of me.” Iwaizumi speaks fondly, which is probably the only thing indicating that he isn’t here for some wicked king of payback. You nod while your brows slide up.

“I’m sure you also took a lot of money from him.”

“If I was lucky,” he pauses, “I don’t like to bet. But it was nice to play against him, even without betting.”

“I’m surprised he wanted to play without betting.”

“Rare occasions.” Iwa muses with a small smile in the corner of his lips.

Iwaizumi looks at you again, that deep stare as if he’s trying to catch your soul intent. “What I mean with that is… He never talked about you. Or having a family, for that matter.”

“Well… it’s like you put it. He was a gambler. And before he got good, he was bad. We struggled a lot with his debt while I was growing up. Once I left the house and I was working and got into college... he called me, asking for money.  He knew I had a college fund -- small, but you know, enough to get by for a few years. I gave some of it to him and I told him that if he was going to call me for money, it’d be better if he didn’t call at all, so… our relationship was pretty strained this last few years.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say. So he tests around something he hasn't used in a long time, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just couldn’t possibly deal with his debt on top of mine, you know. And it was his choice not to call me for other reasons, so.” You shrug your shoulders, eyes downcast for a moment. If Iwaizumi ever knew how to console someone, he’d forgotten it a long time ago, but he’ll swear on his gun and every god above that he wishes he was sensible enough now to offer any kind of words that can resemble solace. He doesn’t know what you find in his face that makes you do a funny face, nose wrinkling, while smiling.

“It’s ok, I don’t hate him, you know. I just... He’s dead and I can’t help but think these things are in the past. Which may be fucked up but I’ve made my choice not to go through life with these demons.”

Iwaizumi nods, solemn. He knows a thing or twelve about going through life with demons and he wishes that you didn’t have to bear this even for the smallest of seconds. It gnaws inside your being, and the places where their claws sink usually fester. But, he doesn’t even risk thinking about what it’d be like for him to live without them -- they’re the closest to penitence for a whole life of sin he’s ever gonna get.

Talking to Hajime makes hours fly by like minutes. 

He’s not very talkative himself, but he’s a great listener and he gives you fair, honest answers so you try to do the same. You ask him about the old man, what he’d been doing, and Hajime doesn’t even blink while saying that he kept gambling until his death; tells you how he’d been worried that the diner had been offered as collateral to some debt and would fall victim of your grandpa’s addiction even after his death. You tell him about life after college, how disheartening and anxious it was, how you’ve struggled without finding a job and hustled your way together with Rei. You tell him how you’ve felt good to win the Diner -- the new ideas and purpose, the excitement and how fun it was to think about life like this -- a business owner. 

The one thing Hajime doesn’t tell you about is his job, which you feel is answer enough; and when you ask him about the late nights at the Diner, his lips quirk up and your heart quickens, whole body warming at how he tells you the diner has a special place in his life and that he doesn’t likes to sleep, only crashing once the sun come out.

He stays with you as you bid Rei farewell and close the restaurant, walks you to his car and drives you to your house. His car doesn’t move until you make it safe inside and only when your face comes to the window, does it starts to move away.

-

[to be continued]

[smutty-ki113r]

🎥It’s been so long 🎥||

Comfort one-shot reader x creepy pastas (Slenderman, Jeff, Toby, E.J, BEN, Sally, Masky, Hoodie, Jane and L.J.) ((Beauty and the beast spoilers))

Inspired by: The living tombstone

The following morning you got ready to go to Hollywood studios. It was pretty chilly so you wore a jacket, bunched up in the car with everyone else. On the way there BEN wouldn’t stop talking about the new Star Wars exhibits.

Parking in one of the spots you all rode the tram to bring you to the entrance. All of the creeps stood in awe at the decorations at the entrance. Slender had to shoo them to disperse before they could hold up the other people coming in. Jeff looked irritated, probably cause he left his knife at the hotel as instructed.

A lot of people were dressed as people from the 50’s and such for Halloween weekend. Some of them gave strange looks at your groups’ costumes, but there was definitely compliments too. At least L.J was happy because there were less annoying children.

First up was the tower of terror, which you guys had a hard time finding since it was to the farther side of the park. BEN kept whining that he wanted to go to the Star Wars rides, but Jeff and you were pretty headstrong on wanting to go on this one.

The line was long too, about an hour in the hot Florida sun. Thankfully it was windy, and you sat on the ledges for the wait. Hoodie and Sally opted out since she was too short and he had a slight fear of heights. Slender could actually fit this time so he was pretty excited.

Jeff was pretty restless the whole time, fiddling with his hands in his hoodie pocket. BEN sat next to you on the ledge with his head on your shoulder, he seemed tired. Probably because he brought his Nintendo and played it all night even though you advised him not to.

Eventually you all made it inside where you looked at the “spooky” decorations. If slender had a face he would have one of disgust at the cobwebs. There was no comparison to his mansion, not creepy at all -in his opinion.

“Spooky does not mean unclean” he kept muttering to you guys telepathically.

Jeff rolled his eyes and Masky nodded his head, his arms crossed as you guys moved along. Then you were moved in to a separate room to watch some recording giving a backstory to the hotel. You were really focused on the video, there was even ominous music in the background.

There was this annoying whirr in your ear, you had to swat off the wind blowing on it. If the place really was haunted you were the victim. You felt a pair of hands grab your waist and you jolted, looking behind to find a cackling BEN.

“YOU SHIT” You slapped his arm- obviously- he deserved it.

He kept trying to fend you off until Masky gave both of you a really dangerous look. At least you didn’t need to be scared of ghosts anymore, Masky was the scariest thing there. Plus, BEN wasn’t exactly a terrifying ghost with those cute ears of his.

Finally it was time to get on the ride, slender looked really excited in his own way. He had his hands over his lap, the seatbelt buckled securely. You sat on the end with Jeff next to you and BEN next to him and then Toby after.

LJ was on the row behind you with Masky and EJ, you gave them a look as the cart moved. Then the doors opened and there was a stiff in the movement. Abruptly it shot upward, staying still for a second. You got to look at the beautiful view of the whole park before it dropped.

You felt your stomach drop as you clenched your hands on the handles, screaming along with LJ in the back. Glancing at him you saw the feathers on his shoulders fly up at the fall, Slender had his arms up, it was adorable. Toby was CRYING, holding onto the handles for dear life just like you.

After a few times of rising and going down Jeff started yelling at BEN, “STOP TAMPERING WITH THE CONTROLS”

“I’M NOT” he screached, holding onto his hat and trying to shake off a clingy Jeff. The outdoor daylight flashing onto his face, making his wide smiling face illuminate.

“STOP IT BEN” he kept repeating until there was one last drop. He gave a sigh of relief.

The people on the opposite rows looked mortified, scooting past you as you checked the pictures. They were absolutely hilarious, Jeff was gripping on for dear life to BEN, with Slender blocking the family in the back row and there was an open mouth shot of you.

It was a bit dizzying, so you held onto BEN until you regained your balance. He was a bit shocked too, a look of terror displayed at how Jeff yelled at him 50 feet in the air. Toby was pretty petrified too, his ticking increased and you had to rub him on the back to calm him down.

“I liked it” E.J said, shrugging at the picture and moving to the exit. Masky agreed with him, going to find his buddy Brian outside.

Toby needed something to take his mind off of the ride, so you took him and Sally to the Beauty and the Beast show. E.J tagged along too, which was pretty bizarre but hey maybe he liked theatre. The others went to the guitar ride while you waited for the next show to start.

The four of you sat in a back row to have the whole view of the stage. Needless to say that Toby and Sally really enjoyed themselves listening to the actors sing. When the conflict started Sally got anxious and you had to hold her in your lap.

Jack was quieter than usual watching the show, occasionally shushing Toby’s whimpers so he could concentrate. Gaston got on stage and started singing about killing the beast. You looked over at EJ who had his fists balled up in rage, he was really getting into it.

Giving a snarl when Gaston killed the beast but a huff of approval when he turned out to be okay. He didn’t say it but he kinned the beast, and he secretly wanted the happy ending. When the show ended you could have sworn there was tar rolling down his mask, you have him a little pat of affection.

He smiled at you under his blue mask and stood up, excusing himself for a moment. You shrugged as he went behind the stage, probably to get a snack. Leaving the gaston actor with one less kidney than when he started the show.

Then you pushed him out of there with the other two creeps, going across the road to find the rest of the group at the guitar ride. Slender was outside waiting with Hoodie and Jane, Sally ran up to give him a hug.

“They’re in the line for another round” he sighed, “go join them” he called to you and E.J.

You swerved through the other people, excusing yourself because you had to find your group. They told you all about how exciting it was, in the dark and super fast. Jeff was ranting, impatient once again. When you got inside BEN played with the marbles on the door, Masky was shooting him a disapproving look.

Jeff and BEN went in the cart in front of you, you went with L.J who wouldnt stop grinning. It would have been creepy if you weren’t used to it, but the lady making sure you were buckled seemed pretty terrified. Masky and E.J were behind you.

The car took off with a blast, music bursting in your ears as it climbed the tracks. You were overwhelmed with glowing decorations and unplanned curves, taking loopdy loops and hearing BEN and Jeff scream in delight.

You had to give heavy pants when it finished, catching your breath from all your screaming. You laughed along with L.J, whose hair was messed up. Reaching over to make it neater as the cart reached the exit point. The pictures made you cackle, especially since Masky and E.J on the same row had the same void expression.

After that you all headed to the toy story world. Admiring the green army soldiers and amazing childish scenery on the buildings. There were giant abc building blocks and gears making it seem like you had really shrunk.

Upon seeing the Toy Story mania BEN was teething. For some reason Jane too.

Finding out soon enough when she made you ride with her. Basically it was you and Jane in one cart with Jeff and BEN in the next.

She ignored the objective of the game and instead focused on shooting Jeff with the lasers. You kept telling her she had to shoot them at the targets but she shoved you off.

“I need to shoot this fucker” Jane kept muttering.

“You’ll never get me Jane!” Jeff yelled back.

Jeff aimed his cart towards you guys and started fighting back with the light filled lasers. You and BEN looked at each other like 😐, it was useless to break them up.

So you tried to win as much points as you cold but eventually BEN got more, he probably cheated. He did a little victory dance as you exited, you would definitely hold that against him later.

Slender wanted to go on the movie ride, which Jeff protested against but he wasn’t given much of a choice. Slender really liked the infographics and the interactives. Appreciating the realistic scenarios from the Indiana Jones movie and the Wild West.

Jeff did have a laughing fit when he saw the Alien from the Alien movie, saying it looked just as bald as slender. You were sure to give him a smack at that too. Overall though, you all enjoyed it, even Masky did too.

Next was the muppet show, so you all headed that way. While you all waited for the next viewing to start Toby was playing with the 3-D glasses. He kept walking with his arms out and pretending to be dizzy. Then he started “accidentally” bumping into Masky, poor Masky.

Thankfully for him, the doors opened and he sat as far as possible from Toby. You were sandwiched in between him and BEN. You guys lightly chattered until the lights dimmed and you had to put on your glasses.

L.J was having a laughing attack during the show, joined by Sally who actually really liked it. Then there was a part where the little muppet started spitting water, landing onto the audience. Now here was the part where a certain someone started screeching like a little girl, and it wasn’t Sally.

Benny was shivering in fear trying to cower on the floor, your ears rung as you tried to calm him down. You had to assure him like 20 times for him to come back, drying his seat so he could go back. Jeff was laughing but you quickly shut him up.

“It’s gonna be ok BEN, the show’s almost over” you said, giving him your jacket to warm up.

To compensate for BEN’s panic attack you convinced Slender to go to the Star Wars world next. At least BEN was pretty excited for that one, so you managed to diverge his attention to that instead.

His eyes widened and he started jumping up and down when you guys got there. Since there were so many rides you guys started just by walking around. It was pretty incredible, like straight out of the movies.

The architecture was amazing, with rusted technological buildings and the makeshift rocky terrain. The roofs of each buildings were domes, most of them were circular and extraterrestrial.

The stone was so realistic, some the walls were painted with a light aquamarine and some buildings with a yellow. The roofs were made up of a chipped bronze.

Even the ship which stood at the center was unbelievable, Slender made you and BEN take a picture together. You could see the grin of a lifetime on his face follow as you waited in line for the live action ride.

It was so fun! Even slender loved it, he knew he intimidated the storm troopers and if he could grin it would be a smug one. The design of the ride was amazing, the inside was like the real ships.

After you bought BEN a green milk and got a Blue one for yourself. It was sweet on your tongue, cold like a slushee too. You let BEN try yours after he gulped his own down and then he nagged you until you let him have the rest of it.

The next ride was the interactive one, this time you went with Masky and Hoodie. He had been quiet most of the time but this really fired him up. It was a three person ride, the mission was to get to a certain planet in the galaxy while escaping an evil ship.

Masky took all the control on this one, he was the pilot. He put Hoodie as the repair guy and you were the ammo man. He was solely concentrated on maneuvering that ship, swerving left and right like a pro. When the other ship started attacking he began commanding you too.

“SHOOT” he yelled back at you. He sure was bossy sometimes. “ARE YOU SHOOTING?”

“I AM” you said, pushing the button a million miles a minute to see the red laser shoot out on the screen.

Your wrist hurt from how hard you pushed it time and time again. “SHOOT THE GODDAMN SHIP” he said before you landed a good shot and got it out of the way, giving a sigh of relief that he would stop telling you what to do.

Hoodie was on repair duty so he just made sure you guys stayed a flight, silent and concentrated on his task.

Coming out of the Star Wars world you guys moved on to the Indiana Jones show, leaving Toby and Sally at the Frozen sing along with L.J as a chaperone. He was in literal hell, with so many little kids. He did like any reasonable adult and left, leaving the irresponsible person and Sally alone.

The Indiana Jones was one of the evening showings, probably the last one of the day before the main event. The whole thing was really thrilling, full of action and suspense. It was very exciting, and Jeff got a little too hyper.

He saw the weapons and started bouncing his legs on the floor. You eyed him suspiciously for a bit, he got so pumped he started raging. Luckily you covered his mouth before he could start yelling.

The smiling killer gave you a deadly look as he took his illegal knife out if his pocket. The very knife he promised he left at the hotel. You wondered how he snuck it in, probably his pants this time.

“You fucker” you deadpanned, moving out of his knife range. This was all while Indiana Jones was rolling over makeshift buildings with that dramatic music in the background. Thank goodness for the music, or else people would start calling security.

“BEN, E.J, HELP ME” you whisper yelled at them. They took Jeff by the arms and made him calm down, through your hand he gave muffled remarks.

His lidless eyes only widened as swords came into view, he simped over those blades like no other. Pulling and fighting for you to let him go, he wanted to cause rampage with his knife.

“I COULD BEAT THE SHIT” he paused to lick your palm which you made a squirmy face at but refused to let him go “OUT OF THOSE GUYS” you took his knife at this point.

You had to keep him restrained until the show ended, meeting up with the other half of your group then as you were walking to the restroom your group was encountered by a double line of storm troopers.

They stopped to make a round, approaching Masky and E.J, since they had masks. First was E.J, where they interrogated him with questions about if he with the first order cause or not.

“Are you part of the resistance” the trooper asked in a filtered voice.

“No” he said calmly.

“How can we know for sure?” the man in the white suit asked.

“I’m not one of the good guys, trust me” he said with a light chuckle. You laughed a little too and they moved to near Masky.

“Trooper get back in line” they said. You almost levitated, it was so funny you had to take a picture. Side by side his mask kind of resembled the storm troopers’.

“I’m not one of you” he said, boiling with anger as a few other troopers marched their way over to him.

“So you’re a Jedi in disguise then?” Another asked, face inches away from Masky.

“No” he said, the boy was about to burst with rage, too serious to take this as a game and gripping his fanny pack in anger to refrain from punching the guy.

The commander in a black mask passed by and spoke “Cleared”, the troopers dispersed, leaving a less distressed Masky behind.

Jeff was laughing at least, and L.J too, who appeared behind you mysteriously. Slender towered over him and asked where Sally was, the monochromed clown just gave a toothy smile and told him he dropped them off at the little mermaid show.

When that was over you guys got good seats at the fantastmic show, with the exception of BEN who feared water and was still having flashbacks from earlier. He gave rounds on the guitar ride with Jeff who opted to skip out with him, its not like he could sit still any longer too.

You hoped they didn’t kill anyone (they probably did), while the show went on. It was a beautiful display of lights in the water. There was a story told on the mountain and then the dancers came out. You smiled at the sight, it was another heartwarming day spent with the creeps. Holding Sally in your lap as she squealed at the pretty lights you were happy and at peace.

[crystalirises]

So I was thinking about a rather angsty plot: so basically Yogurt gets caught during a conflict and an arrow hit him and... well, let's say he reaches Mumza. Fundy is devastated: his little son is gone because he couldn't protect him. So he lets himself wither away,refusing to eat or sleep even thought the ones who cares about him try to help him. One day, when checkin on Fundy's health,they found him lying on the floor. Finally he's with his son again.

(I woke up today and choose [violence] angst) :)

Why have you done this ;-; Not Yogurt ;-; Not the poor bab :((((

But anyway, I did this anyway lmao. This hurt ngl, poor Yogi ;-; I don't know who shot him (and I don't specify here) but that mean person ;-; how dare >:(

I also find it funny how I got this ask like... the moment I woke up, which is funny cause I usually wake up like at 9 AM but today I woke up at 10 AM and immediately got violence. What a great way to start the day XDDD

Anyway, fair warning everyone, this has themes of child death, suicide, and self-neglect. So be warned about that. Also major character death. Stay safe, everyone.

Now if you excuse me, I'm going to cry in the corner /j

"I told you... I told you! I should have stayed with him."

Wilbur hugged his son’s frail body close to his chest, gripping on to too pale and too cold skin. The bottles of poison and harming rolled by him, nudged away by Eret who could barely process what they had stumbled upon. Phil stood at the doorway, a hand on his chest. One of them should have stayed, one of them should have brought Fundy back with them. Wilbur could feel the tears against his cheek as he rocked back and forth. His son was gone, his baby was gone.

“We couldn’t have known, mate. We... we did all we could.”

Fundy hadn’t been the same since Yogurt had died. They had visited Fundy often, for the poor man was stricken with grief that he refused to even function properly. Wilbur couldn’t count the amount of times he had to force Fundy to eat.

“If we did then he wouldn’t be dead, Phil! My son wouldn’t be dead if we’d been there for him!” Wilbur pressed Fundy’s head to his chest, a hand against his son’s chest as though he was still hoping for a sign, a heart beat. Anything. Is this how Phil felt? Is this how Fundy felt? Is this the pain of losing a son? A small sob escaped him, “I should have been there. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t have—”

“You started the fight, but Yogurt’s death wasn’t your fault, Wilbur.”

“Quit the bullshit, Eret. Everyone blames me anyway, it’s my fucking fault. It always is.” Now his son was gone. He was with Yogurt now, the grandson that Wilbur had indirectly killed. If he had just... If he hadn’t started that argument with Quackity then Yogurt would be alive, and Fundy would be too. To think, he saw his son again at his own grandson’s funeral. Fundy didn’t even look at him, didn’t even scream at how shitty a dad he’d been. “It’s my fucking fault, Eret!”

No one had even noticed, no one had even cared but Fundy. The poor father screaming while the battle raged on around him, holding his son’s body close to his chest. Fundy was holding his dead son and nobody had stopped the fight.

Wilbur didn’t even know he had a grandson, all he knew was that the next day, he would stumble upon a funeral. Yogurt’s funeral. The casket was so small...

His son had withered away after that, lost to his mind. Sometimes, when Wilbur would visit, he would hear Fundy talk to a ghost that wasn’t there. And he knew, in his heart, Fundy was never going to be okay. He’d known then, maybe if he’d just... maybe if he’d actually stayed with Fundy then... Wilbur shook his head, focusing on the present. His son’s body was so small in his arms, and he hated that he wasn’t alone, that he couldn’t mourn alone... like Fundy had with Yogurt.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

He didn’t think the dead could feel the cold, but here he was, shivering.

“Hello, Fundy.” A voice whispered into his ear.

He stood at an empty white void, but shadows had begun to accumulate before him, giving form to the goddess of Death. He sucked in a breath. He’d done it, he was dead. The goddess smiled at him, a hand reaching to cup his cheek, and the cold seemed to seep away. “You are far too young to be here, but there is nothing to be done now. Unless the living intervene, in death you will forever dwell. Your life has been full of sorrow, full of death. I know why you are here.”

The void melted away, morphing into an endless flower field.

In the distance, he could see a cottage, white smoke coming from its chimney. The door burst open, a familiar arctic fox stumbling down the porch steps. Fundy felt tears in his eyes. Yogurt was running towards him. Yogurt, his beautiful son.

“Papa!” Yogurt was calling him. He looked at Death, but she had already left.

He took that as his cue to run, scooping up his son the moment he got close.

“Yogurt, my beautiful boy!” He held onto his son, intent on never letting go again.

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They share the same limbo because I say so.

[thesacramentoflove]

(Good Omens) Beelzebub x GN Reader:

3k words - The reader runs into Beelzebub while chasing their daughter, and Beelzebub decides to follow them.

-----

Something stirred, deep within their heart - a feeling so pure, so unbridled…perhaps it was love? They couldn’t be certain, but the tiny wings of many a butterfly toiled to trace the lining of their stomach. They wanted to understand the feeling - that which had been hidden from them for millennia. To whom was it directed? What purpose did it serve? Nothing thus had sent them into such a state of confusion. This feeling…it shouldn’t have been possible. But, perhaps it too was a cog in the wheel of the Great Plan. After all, God often sacrificed sense for inanity.

No…it couldn’t be love.

But this…it seemed so innocent, and the implications…they didn’t bear considering. As a demon, a being avowedly void of the very capacity, well…they should've been immune. It should've been a far-flung fantasy, a tale only told as fiction. But seeing you here, a child hanging from your arm…Beelzebub could feel a spark of…something. It was something wrong, they were certain - positive, and therefore very, very wrong indeed. It was something that defied logic, that gave the demon pause and instilled a confusion deep within. Your meeting, albeit temporary, had hindered their plans to a great extent. They were supposed to be monitoring Crowley (a task annoying in and of itself), not…following some human. Not even an hour had passed since your paths had crossed, and yet they felt such intrigue.

The way you handled your child with care and compassion beyond anything they'd seen thus far, the elegance that shone through even the smallest of movements, that smile…

Beelzebub wasn’t sure which, of the aforementioned, they favoured most. It was a difficult choice, since their mind hadn't bothered to list all of the qualities they'd become privy to. It took neither genius nor seer to tell that you glowed. You glowed with beauty, with love, with…everything demons couldn’t hope to match. You were angelic, without a whisper of effort. You didn’t claim to be an angel, but if ever you did, the smell of humanity would betray you.

Humanity…that was your sole flaw, but your very essence. For Beelzebub to pursue it, to want to…

All of this, all of it…was the result of a single interaction - one that you probably didn’t even remember. You had quite literally crashed into them, while on your daughter's tail. In her defence, she was playing Tag…amid a rowdy throng of people. And in your defence, you had warned her. Several times, in fact. But a child so young is an angel in theory and a devil in practice, paying attention to little unless it interests them.

The memory of your bodies colliding was still fresh in Beelzebub's mind. They could almost…feel you, as though you were still there, still in their arms. It hurt that you weren't, and that you fled so quickly. They remembered the rushed apology, the eyes that avoided theirs, and the glimmers of panic and guilt that couldn’t be concealed. It all happened within a moment, and then you were gone. Beelzebub had put their actual job on hold, to track you down. That might've been an honour, for a demon. The reminder of your humanity was…painful. Your human vessel would eventually expire, falling victim to the curses of illness or age. For that reason, humans were lesser, they were expendable.

That's why, the war…

Beelzebub shivered at the thought, a string of new emotions tying up their heart. They felt…desperate, protective and scared. The threads of fate would not waver at the behest of a demon, but…did humanity, all of humanity, need to be slain…? What if a single human and their child…what if they survived? Would such a thing be questioned, or challenged? If there was a way to keep you, even at the expense of your freedom…

But…was it that same freedom, and all your human traits, that made you desirable? Would you hold that same calibre, if you surrendered your humanity? Would you become an angel and thrive in Heaven, or would some horrible secret rear its head at the time of judgement? Would you join the fallen…the demons? Would you join Beelzebub, and reign at their side, for all eternity? Or would you condemn them, as God already had? Beelzebub found themselves unwilling to entertain such thoughts. Of course you would still be you, angel or demon. And…something had drawn them to Earth, on this day. Something wanted you to meet, they were certain! And, well…demons had ill fortune, but…God would never be so cruel, right?

Something had called to Beelzebub, planted the thought of visiting Earth in their head, and watched it flourish. It had offered up Crowley as an excuse, used the lack of trust between demons to its advantage. Beelzebub had been played right into its hands. But from here, they walked the path blindly. There were no further directions, no sign saying 'THIS IS WHAT YOU NEED TO DO'. They weren't sure how to talk to humans, how to appear as a friend instead of a foe…

Everything was just so complicated. But there you were, playing with your daughter on the grass, and weaving flowers into crowns with the delicacy of a feather. The smile you wore was bright and beautiful, luring Beelzebub in like a moth to a flame. They just didn’t understand why. Why did your arms suddenly look so inviting, and your lips so soft? Why did time seem to still, why had the sun framed your head in such a way that it appeared God herself had descended from the heavens to bestow a halo atop your head?

Why were you so angelic, yet…so human?

God must have been testing Beelzebub. Again. Their heart was beginning to fracture under the weight of decisions. Mere decisions! It was ridiculous…Beelzebub was never so indecisive. This should've been a trifle, in comparison to all the decisions they had to make for the upkeep of Hell. But…how could they choose between advancing (which could result either in rejection - Beelzebub did not get rejected - or you and your child fleeing in palpable terror), or staying rooted in place (during which time you could either make your exit, or someone could 'pick you up' - was that the correct human term?). This choice was so difficult because…something, some flicker of what could only be described as goodness, begged them to leave you untainted, to simply walk away and never return.

It seemed to scream, "Do not sully the human incarnation of this angelic being."

Beelzebub knew that their approach alone would expose you to all kinds of…unpleasantries - even if they themselves had no intent to do you harm. Which they didn’t. And for that matter, they never would. Though, the words of a demon gave little reassurance, and it wasn’t like you could hear them.

They dared not dwell too long on the choices - human life was fleeting, and an hour's silent contemplation to them could be several years to you (unlikely, but they did lack very basic knowledge, so their fear-driven assumption could be excused). They didn’t want to wait…they wanted to call out, to cradle and protect. They wanted the trust of both yourself and your child, but…they still didn’t know why. A human would've laid the blame on love, but love was something demons didn’t understand. They had renounced that right at the moment of their fall. Demons couldn't…love, they couldn’t care for anything! No…it wasn’t love.

Though clearly, there were two exceptions: Crowley and Beelzebub. The latter briefly wondered if the former felt such intense emotions towards his angelic companion. Though, they had met far more than once, and Crowley hadn't made a habit of stalking Aziraphale. What Beelzebub was doing…that was stalking. And it was creepy. Their eyes were so focused, tracing every inch of your body. You wouldn’t know how to act if they just…appeared before you. No, that was definitely a bad idea - bad as in bad bad, like, really bad.

However, their hesitance left an opening for someone else - a wild animal, a vulture, someone who cared nothing for your heart, your mind or your child…someone who only wished to conquer your body. And as if to mock the demon, such a person did show up. Beelzebub was now certain this was a test, with their go-to option (murder) nowhere in sight. No…you seemed much too frail. You shouldn’t have to witness such a graphic display. Beelzebub watched for a moment, as a new form of anger took hold. That human was too close to you. Your smile had fallen, happiness abandoned and discomfort rising to its place. Beelzebub didn’t like that. Not at all.

But this was a test seemingly impossible to pass, and designed for failure. Though, if Beelzebub knew one thing, it…wasn't tests, or humane ways to deal with a given situation. What they knew was confrontation.

This wasn’t your fight, and Beelzebub was poised to prove that.

The stage was set, and they moved towards it, determined to do something…anything, to return your smile to you. This human could rot in the deepest pit of Hell, eternally isolated from both sunlight and warmth, from contact, and most importantly, from you. After today, this cretin would never bother you again, on pain of, well…pain. There wouldn’t be a murder…not yet. Your comfort was the priority, and Beelzebub had to remember that. It couldn’t be jeopardised.

They reached the scene within seconds, acting on the immediate instinct to shield you and your child. Panic and fright painted both your faces, tarnishing that beautiful innocence. That could not be excused. Beelzebub glared at your harasser, but this was a poor deterrent. They backed up a mere three paces, before sneering - acting high and mighty, as though they weren't in the presence of a Lord of Hell, a revered demon.

Still, they addressed you, venom dripping from their words. "I didn't know you had a…partner. When were you gonna tell me that, sweetheart?"

You did nothing to deny the accusation, instead vowing silence and looking between the two figures. You seemed weary, as you should, but you were thankful for the intervention. Without it, well…your imagination conjured some disturbing almost-realities. This new person, whether in or out of the binary, was…helping you. Though their presentation could lead you to believe they weren't interested in good deeds, they were…helping.

And then it hit you. The familiarity hadn't registered until now, as you couldn’t see their face, but…you knew them. Or, at the very least, you'd seen them, bumped into them. Great, now you were panicked, scared, and embarrassed, all in front of your child. You held her close, throughout this entire ordeal. A part of you wanted to run, but you had to somehow repay this stranger's kindness. And you had put them in a potentially dangerous situation, albeit without intent. You hoped this was kindness, and not simply obligation, civic duty or something to a similar effect. That was the impression they gave, but…ulterior motives seemed to be a curse of humanity. No-one was genuine anymore.

"They don't like you. So leave. Now, before I do something I can't take back." It was the first you'd heard of their voice, but you never knew you could find such comfort in a tone so exceedingly dull.

The human seemed to waver. "…Oh yeah? What, you gonna kill me or somethin'?"

"I might." A real and viable threat wove its way between those words. For all God's shit, Beelzebub was prepared to neither play nor gamble - not with you on the line.

And in the intermediate moments, the human acquired a sliver of common sense. Beelzebub was the threat, and the sooner they recognised this, the better.

They stepped back, sputtering out the pathetic excuse of "I, uh…I left my cat in the oven!"

Sheer horror led your child to cry, "Kitty?!"

"He means cake, angel." Though, your thoughts didn’t carry such surety: I really hope he means cake.

Beelzebub watched the human retreat, but kept an ear open for you. Nothing would distress you now - not with their protection. But they had to be absolutely certain. Their expression softened, senses still sharp, still looking out for you and any danger that might endeavour to betide you. They didn’t know how to speak with humans, nor how gentle it was possible to be.

But the effort could be made. "Are you…okay?"

Their question, though rather sudden and unexpected, was…calming. You could tell they cared. "Um…we're okay, yeah…thank you. You didn’t have to do that, but…I'm glad you did. Are you okay? That was a short exchange, but it was charged."

Yeah…you must've been an angel. "Yeah. 'M alright."

"That's good." You smiled. You smiled. "Thank you. Again. Oh, (C/n), what do you say to them?"

At the prompt, the little child at your side shouted, "Thank you for saving us!"

You giggled at their choice of words, while Beelzebub just stared, stunned. "I'm sorry about her, she's easily excited. Cute though, isn't she? She's usually the one protecting me. You showed her up…"

Your tone was so light, so warm, so full of…something - something special. It was greater than relief, or gratitude. Well, it seemed greater. Beelzebub couldn’t really be sure, but it zapped their confidence and made almost…made them weak. And weakness…that was dangerous. Well, it was supposed to be. Yet somehow…it didn’t feel that way. It felt like a thundering heart, a sudden and creeping heat, a soft, fluffy…something, that was so alien but at the same time, so nice.

When Beelzebub didn’t respond to your prompt, you coughed and said, "Well…is there anything I could do? To repay you, I mean…I have to repay your kindness. Um, would you like a coffee, or dinner, or…you could choose something? Sorry, I don't know what you like…"

"I like…" Beelzebub looked around, trying to find an answer in all that surrounded them. They were desperate to keep you talking, to keep your eyes on them, to make you stay. "…those."

You followed their finger, laughing as you did. "The ducks or the flowers?"

Their confusion was so strange and child-like, you couldn’t help the laughter. Still, you had never been one for judgements. You replied in earnest. "The ducks are the animals in the water, the small, fuzzy ones. Ah, see the one over there, flapping its wings? That's (C/n)'s favourite. We come here to feed them, on occasion. And flowers are those - you see them coming out of the ground? They're really sweet, and every flower has a different meaning, but no-one knows them all. It's like a secret language! (C/n) and I love that a lot…"

"You like them? Do you give them to other huma- other people?" They asked, now with a genuine curiosity.

You giggled. "I don't, not personally, unless it's a daisy from the park, which I'll give to (C/n). But…I don't really…have anyone else to give them to. It's usually a romantic gesture, and I don't…I'm not…with anyone."

You hadn't meant it to sound so much like an invitation.

"Oh. Good…Why not?" Beelzebub's tongue couldn’t decide on a narrative, torn between sympathy and a sort of cruel relief.

But in spite of this, your smile refused to fade. "Well…I'm perfectly capable of raising a child alone, and no-one ever really…made my heart soar, I suppose. My other half was…not one of God's nicer creations, I'll say that. I have a catalogue of words I could use, but…well, they would put a dampener on things."

Beelzebub nodded, noting that for later enquiries. "Are they dead?"

You laughed, both amused and taken aback. "No, no…to me, perhaps, but…no. Ah, if you're asking because of the past tense, I only used it because we aren't together anymore. We're, um…four years divorced. I just…focused on raising (C/n), rather than tending to my romantic needs. She is, and always will be, more important."

"What did you mean," Beelzebub started, furrowing their brows. "with the bit about your heart? The 'heart soar'? What…is that? How does it work?"

"Have you ever heard of 'Cloud Nine'?" You waited until they shook their head, to continue. "It's a feeling you get when you're around someone you love, where your heart starts to beat really fast, and you feel like you can fly to great heights. You feel weightless, like any sudden wind could take you into the air. Oh, it's such a magical feeling!...Have you never felt it before?"

As you spoke, Beelzebub's experience, their feelings, gained clarity. Things just…clicked. Had it been that easy all along? And had they known…? Had their heart simply pulled the veil over their mind? Could demons love? Part of them wanted to scream; love was sacred - the antithesis of hatred and the enemy of all evils. The very act, the very thought…were so unbefitting, so un-demon like. But this seemed beyond merely act or thought.

"That's how it feels." They stated, with faux confidence.

"So you have! Isn't it just wonderful?" You paused, then gasped rather loudly. "Oh my…I can't believe I forgot to tell you my name! I'm (Y/n), it's a pleasure to meet you!"

They took your hand, after a fierce internal debate. Their face, however, remained neutral. "Beelzebub, and likewise."

"Oh, you have a biblical name! Those are always so fascinating!" You gushed, taking them by surprise.

"You have a…name. A nice one." They stammered, new to both giving and receiving compliments.

You laughed again, a sound too sweet for their ears. "You don't get out much, do you? Um…would you like to get some food? Provided you can deal with (C/n), of course. We could…talk? Get to know each other…? You seem really nice, and I'd like to, um…"

Demons didn’t eat, but at this point, Beelzebub would do anything to stay at your side. Their acceptance came easily - too easily, by their standards. But they were beginning to reject those standards, at a hawk's pace, rather than a snail's. It might've been concerning, but…why should they care? Loving a human was bad, and demons thrived in the bad. Bad was good, in their books - or at least, the demonic equivalent. And 'good' wasn’t a descriptor that suited Beelzebub, but 'bad'…now that was. Surely then, a little greed couldn’t hurt. But it wasn’t material greed, no…it was far more personal, more intimate. They hungered for your affections, for your hand…for everything about you.

Their very nature justified this sin. Such beautiful, glorious sin. If Beelzebub could fall any further…they would do so with a glad and willing heart.

So this is love. They thought, as a smile crept to their lips. Forbidden love.

[taeescript]

II. Script of the Angel

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 6.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) scenes are graphic. this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned.

𝔞/𝔫 >> i’m so glad to see people enjoyed the last part! this part is a little shorter but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. will likely be making a masterlist post for this soon as i’m having too much fun writing this and it’s getting long. feedback and comments always appreciated. as always, enjoy! (: 

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Muscles and bones. The primary architecture of the human body. It allows us to stand and walk; sit and run; jump and spin. But what really keeps us alive? Blood. It carries the nutrients our body needs. It carries the defenders our body requires. So integral to our survival, blood can tell a story of its own. Looking at the direction of travel along with the width and length of the spatter, a single droplet is its own author, spinning a tale of its origin and its birth. A good spatter gives us more information than just a large overlapping pool. “Come again?” Jimin says in disbelief. Taehyung shrugs. He is the unit’s spatter analyst. In one latex covered hand, he holds a cotton swab and the other is pinching his nose. “There are traces of blood everywhere,” he repeats. “Yet I don’t see a single stain of red anywhere,” Jimin rubs his temples, “Are you telling me that the killer had enough time to wipe the whole room clean?” “I’m only telling you what science has told me,” Taehyung says. He carefully dances around another coworker to reach his open kit. It shuts with a loud snap and the younger turns back to look at his commanding officer. “Can I please get back to the lab? This smell is killing me.” Jimin can only wave half-heartedly at him before turning his attention to the scene in front of him. It is eight in the morning. They had received an anonymous call about fifteen minutes ago describing a horrific murder. The station had forwarded the call to him and after hearing the detailed account, he left the station with his team. “Fuck me. What in the world happened here?” a new voice enters the scene. It is too much even for him to handle this early in the morning. Jimin utters a “you tell me”, then excuses himself from the room. He pushes past the crowding officers and curious residents until he reaches the front of the hotel. There, his stomach dislodges everything it can. Even as he wipes his mouth, the black spots do not cease dancing in front of his eyes. Deeper in his vision, the picture is all too clear. She hangs from the ceiling with her arms stretched wide. Her feet are wrapped together in rope and her body is naked. Attached behind are two massive wings. The feathers have been stitched carefully together to create an impressive wingspan and if they were not speared into her back, Jimin may have thought they were beautiful. Yet there they were, dug into her shoulder blades, ripping into her muscle and tissue. That was not the centerpiece of it all. Missing from the body were all its abdominal organs. They had been ripped out, cut out… forensics would tell him how they were taken out, but they were gone. Replaced inside her was a large bouquet of red roses. They glistened in the sunlight and when the team had arrived, there were still dew drops on its velvety petals. The grotesque memory causes his body to expel its contents again. “Boss,” the voice from before returns, “You alright?” Jimin turns to face his partner. Namjoon stands in front of him, a worried expression which contorts his face. Namjoon is one of his only friends at the work force, being the only one similar in age. The other agents were all much older than him so with common interests, the two were naturally drawn to each other. Jimin liked Namjoon well enough. He was smart and quick on his feet. More than once, Jimin had reached out to Namjoon for advice, whether it be for work or personal life. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I wasn’t prepared to see that this early in the morning,” Jimin says. Namjoon nodded. He too has dark circles under his eyes and his lips were hardened into a thin, straight line. “Makes you imagine what a sick motherfucker could create this,” he comments. They stand in silence for a quick second until Namjoon speaks again, “What do you think we should do?” Jimin resumes his commanding role. “Take down the body. Have somebody sweep it thoroughly. Send a couple of the lab geeks in to scan the room. I want everything put into evidence, even if it’s a speck of dust. Everybody leaves something behind, and we will find it.” “What about the civilians? We’ve got a growing, curious crowd spreading like cancer.” “You’re Lieutenant. Do something about it,” Jimin light-heartedly teases Namjoon in his new role. Namjoon slightly flinches at the address. Although Namjoon had been promoted to a position higher than Jimin’s, Namjoon only ever treated him in the way they had always been working together: as partners. “Fuck me,” Namjoon curses with his favourite two words. Jimin grins. “Maybe later. I’ve got a shit ton of paperwork to get started back at the station. I’ll see you,” he pats his distracted friend’s shoulder. Taking a last scan of the building, Jimin strides towards his parked car. He is ready to hunt down the person who dared mess around in his town.

...

Jungkook watches the scene before him with mild interest. His ears pick up the voice of an officer that is instructing the crowd that everything is under control; to return to what they are doing without a worry. “What’s going on?” the housewife asks beside him. She is still in you pajamas and had seemed to wander out due to the hubbub. He smiles at her. “Murder.” She regards him with wide eyes. Her feet stumble backwards and she scurries away. The officer had finished his speech and the crowd was now dissipating. Jungkook took it as his cue to exit as well. As he walks out of the hotel, he feels vaguely irritated. At the end, his script is not perfectly carried out. He had needed to modify it slightly although the end result is what he had planned it to be. Even the timing of the police’s arrival after his call had been as he predicted. The world was too easy for him to guess. Now, it is time to return to Krystal. Even without using his vast knowledge of facial cues and body expressions, he knows exactly how she would react. Nostrils dilated, lower lid tensed, brows lowered and lower jaw jutting out. He reads her like a book and its title screamed “anger”. “Where were you all last night?” she questions, hands placed on her hips. He sighs while placing his jacket on the hanger at the entranceway. His feet ache as they pad across the tiles towards the bedroom. “I was out doing research. I told you yesterday,” he says. She bites her lip. When he walked past her, she could smell a faint hint of perfume mixed with a lemony clean scent like soap. Her jaws clench tighter. “Yes. But you had said you would be out late. You never said you’d be gone the entire night!” she follows him closely behind. He does not turn or wait for her. Once inside the bedroom, he throws off his shirt and pants, trudging to the showers. “Don’t you think you could have given me a call at least?” she asks. His figure is a faint silhouette through the shower curtain. She can see him scrubbing his face. She waits for him until the water is shut down and he steps out of the box. Water drips from his hair and his skin is still a flush pink from the heat. The room fills with steam and he brushes past her on the way out. Still, she relentlessly follows him. “Jeon Jungkook!” she calls out, “Say something!” He pulls out a new pair of boxers from the drawer and put them on. Once they snap against his waist, he turns to finally look at her. “I’m tired, and you’re annoying me. We’ll talk when I wake up,” he says. Tears sting her eyes but she cannot allow him to see any type of weakness. She whirls around on her heels and stalk out of the room, leaving him to himself. The door slams shut loudly behind her and makes his ears slightly ring. The sheets are cold and inviting on his body. The wrap around him like a silky cocoon and his eyes are heavy the instance he hits the pillow. There is only one last thing to do before he can allow his body to rest. With delicate fingers, he pries off the paper-thin gloves from his hands. They slide off smoothly and if there was an onlooker in the room at that moment, they would have been reminded of a snake that was shedding its skin. These are special gloves just for his hobbies. They disguise his hands so that they are void of fingertips. They are so lightweight he cannot feel them at all. They blend in with his body so perfectly, only the keenest of eyes would be able to notice the thin line above his wrist where the material ends. They are perfect for him and allow him to do what he does without a worry. He leaves the material out on the top of the drawer. He knows that Krystal would not be back in the room for a while so it is safe sitting there. They are like contact lenses, shriveling and drying up due to the exposure to air. In about fifteen minutes time, they would look like shrunken autumn leaves and be the size of a walnut. The room-keeper would find them if he had still not thrown them out, and discard them thinking they were candy wrappers. He lets his body drift into nothingness, content with the day’s work.

...

Besides having a good eye for detail, a coroner should be able to work under extremely stressful conditions. They could be asked to visit crime scenes, identify human remains or supervise the transportation of corpses. Working often behind the scenes, a coroner is an integral part to this unit. It is sad to say that we are low in numbers and are extremely interested in people joining our team! If you have taken subjects like biology, chemistry and forensics, in addition to law and humanities, we encourage you to apply to our graduate program! We would love to see you working beside us! Jimin’s eyes scan the announcement that has been placed on the door of the coroner’s office. He is scheduled for a meeting with the elder man on what may have been found and as a man of time, he is early for it. “Park! You’re here,” the coroner steps out of his office. He has patches of grey hair and a scruff of facial hair that he now scratches with his fingers. Dressed in his usual white lab coat, his black shoes peek out from beneath his pants and they lead the way towards the morgue. “How’s it going, Fernando?” Jimin greets back, “I see your wife has been feeding you well.” He eyes a popped button on the stomach of his coworker. Fernando laughs. It is loud and bounces off the white walls of the building. It is a laugh that is jolly and hearty; a strange sound to hear in the location they currently are. “Maria always has a full meal whenever I return home. I swear, she’s trying to fatten me up like the witch from Hansel and Gretel,” he chuckles. He and Maria, a linguistic analyst also working in the police force, had been married for years. They had invited nearly the whole station to their wedding and wanted to celebrate for another week before a case had dragged everyone back to work. The two turn a corner and the black door of the morgue greets their face. Fernando hands Jimin a pair of gloves and a mask before they enter the room. The body has already been laid on the table and labelled after Fernando’s inspection. “I’ve already submitted the full report. You’ll find it on your desk by tomorrow morning,” Fernando speaks with a muffled voice due to the mask. The material itches Jimin’s nose and he wrinkles it. His fingers carefully pick up the sheet that covers the body and he scans the female underneath. “You know I like to see the victims personally for each case. Do you mind giving me an overview?” he asks. The other man shrugs. This is not the first case he’s worked with Jimin. While he was not a hard man to work with, he was extremely meticulous – borderline obsessive – in details to the point that it was tiring and burdensome. “No signs of struggles. She evidently took care of her body and skin; probably went to the gym in the times between work. Besides the large opening on her abdomen, the rest of her is intact.” “What is missing from her?” “Mainly her digestive system and portions of her excretory system. Everything within her ribcage has been preserved and unmoved.” “So nothing out of the ordinary then.” “Aside from the gaping hole? No. My best guess is that she knew her attacker. Or if she didn’t, then she at least didn’t sense any danger from him.” “What makes you say that?” “I found seminal fluid in her body.” This new information made Jimin turn his attention away from the body and back to Fernando. He had finished circling the table while mentally confirming everything Fernando had been saying. “You’re suggesting our killer may have had intercourse with our victim then?” “Jane Doe, technically,” Fernando inserted, “We haven’t made an ID on her quite yet.” Jimin waved the comment away. “Maybe,” Fernando recognized Jimin’s piercing look, “I sent a sample of it to the lab geeks. It could be from the killer or it might be from when she last had sex.” Jimin knew how long these types of analyses could take. He didn’t want to wait several weeks for results so he told Fernando to put a rush on it. Fernando stood wordlessly and watched Jimin as he continued to encircle the body. Every so often, his fingers would reach out and lightly tap a part of the body. With each tick the clock on the wall made, it seemed to drive its sound into Fernando’s skull. When he could not take the silence any longer, he let out a cough. At the sound, Jimin remembers that he is not alone in the room. It happened every time he got absorbed in a case. He would become trapped in his own world and forget everything that was around him. “Sorry, Fernando. I’m going to be here a little longer. You’re free to leave. I’ll read the report tomorrow morning and if I have any more questions, I’ll find you again,” he dismisses him. Fernando bows politely and exits the room. High cheekbones, full lips and a perky nose. She was attractive enough to gain a few extra glances when she had walked down the street. Was that how she got the attention of the killer? That would make sense to why he maintained her facial features and took out her organs. Perhaps it was an interpretation of keeping her beautiful exterior shell. It could also explain why a bouquet of flowers was put inside her. Jimin shook his head. He was thinking too much. Who knew what went on in the mind of a killer? Well, besides the killer themselves. He observes her face a while longer and notices that it is not as perfectly symmetrical as he had initially thought. In fact, her right cheek bulged out in a way similar to after a person had their wisdom teeth pulled out. Bringing the overhanging light towards the mouth of the girl, he shines the light inside. There were a couple of metal tools that were placed on a tray nearby and Jimin used this to pry inside her mouth. He pushes aside the meat of her cheeks and peers at the gums. There was nothing unusual there. Something continues to urge him to look further so he turns his head slightly and checks the inner cheek. Deep at the bottom of the valley where muscle meets gums, he notices markings that stand out from the normal. He is unable to make out what they are and so he pushes away the bright light. Opting for a smaller flashlight, he drops the piercing ray of light to where he had been looking before. Four squiggles. 2-0-something-1. Or was that an I? He rotates his head further. The originally illegible third Jimin becomes an A, and the two looks more like an S at this angle. If these were letters, then the second Jimin could potentially be an “O”. The last symbol was still inconclusive as it could be either a one or “I”. Consumed with his new finding, Jimin nearly forgets to record the new information. It is not until a few seconds later that he then whips out his cellular phone and snaps a picture of it. He cannot decipher whether the symbols could be anything more than letters and numbers so he peels off his mask and throws it with the gloves into the trash bin. As he walks out of the coroner’s building and back to the main station, a feeling continues to burn in his gut. His intuition is telling him that there is something oddly familiar with what he had just saw. It wasn’t the girl or the markings themselves, but rather the position he had found them in. He felt like he had seen something like this before. He scratches his head the entire way back until he sits at his desk. That is when he remembers.

...

The light takes him by surprise from the slight crack of his curtains. Warmth from the afternoon sun hits him directly at the eyes and its rays creates a band that gives him the illusion akin to Cyclops from X-Men. He stretches and feels his muscles straining from last night’s activities. With a roll of his neck, he bounces off the bed and throws his legs onto the floor. The cold from being out of his blankets send a shiver down his spine that makes him curl his toes. Everything is strangely quiet around him. He does not hear the clatter of plates nor the running of water. There are no soft paddings from footsteps. The world is silent. He grabs a shirt from his suitcase and throws it over his head, bringing a small bit of warmth to his body. With each step around their hotel room he sees nothing. Her clothing is gone as with it her toothbrush and shoes. In fact, her entire suitcase has disappeared. With miniscule curiosity he returns back to the bedroom and unplugs his charging phone. There is one unread message and he opens it. “I know you’re tired but I don’t think that’s an excuse for your outburst this morning. Regardless, I will respect your need for personal space. I’m flying back to LA. I’ll see you when you return. – Krystal” Her words are curt and straight-forward. He reads her frustration between the words but doesn’t carry it with him. He knows she is waiting for an apology but he is too engrossed with his newfound freedom. He had not planned for the research on this trip to be completed with such speed and so his return train ride was not scheduled until the day after tomorrow. She will have to wait. He had a whole city to walk and sights to see. She will be waiting regardless. Ever so slightly he forms a smile with his lips. He walks over to the curtains and throws them open, allowing all the sunlight to enter his room. It bounces off the white sheets and covers the rug. Dust particles float around after being stirred from their slumber. With a hand pressed against the window, Jungkook peers down from the height of the hotel. He watches the automobiles that zoom beneath his gaze and traces the pathway of each person that passes by. It is a good day.

...

Fingertips graze her lips with a type of tenderness that sends small vibrations through her entire body. He holds her gaze and she peers shyly into his half-moon eyes. A smile dances on his face while she caresses his face with tremoring hands. He grabs them and holds it in his own. “You’re shaking,” he says with a light teasing tone. She wants to pull away but he holds them only stronger. He traces the lines on her palms to soothe her, but it only makes her shake all the more. “Is this real?” the question brushes your mouth much like the autumn wind rustling through leaves. It falls from your lips and floats gently to reach his ears. “Do you want this be real?” he asks you. His eyes never leave you, starting from the top of you forehead to trace to the tip of your nose and finally landing on your cherry stained lips. You faintly hear the sound of laughter in the background and the pattering of feet running but you are only consumed by the man who sits in front of you. Your nod is but a slight shift of your head. He smiles at you and cups your face in the warmth of his hands. Pressing his lips affectionately on yours, you inhale and take in everything from him. “I love you, Y/N” he confesses with all of his heart. You can feel your heart tugging towards him as he stands and offers a hand. You take it and he lightly pulls you to his feet. A rush overcomes you and suddenly, he seems taller than you remember. You look down and sees him standing a few centimeters off the ground. Your brows furrow and you peer up at him again. He has turned and is now starting to run forward. “C’mon, let’s go!” he calls back towards you. You try to move your feet but they only propel you forward while he runs upward into the vast blue sky. “Hyun!” you cry, reaching out to him. He doesn’t seem to hear you but you see laughter bursting forth from his mouth. “You’ll have to run faster or you won’t catch up!” Pressing your feet firmly on the ground, you push off but gravity brings you back down. “Hyun, I can’t! I can’t get into the sky like you!” He has now risen further than ever, growing smaller in your vision. “C’mon, Y/N! Come fast, before you can’t catch up!” his voice is faint but you hear him calling to you. You run forward faster than ever but you are never able to leave the ground. Tears spill from the corner of your eyes in frustration at the fact that you are behind him. “Hyun, don’t leave me!” you scream between your sobbing, “Baekhyun!” Your dream is shattered at the sound of metal clattering to the floor. You are jolted awake and your heart bolts at the sudden sound. The metal can which held your wet paintbrushes were now spread across the floor after falling from the table. Your friend stands at the door with an embarrassed look on her face. “Sorry,” she says, bringing a finger from her forehead towards you in apology. You feel the rise in your heart rate. You conceal it by slowly getting up out of you seat and rolling you head to get rid of the kink. Together, both you and Min clean up the mess off the floor from where she had knocked over the art supplies. “Are you okay?” Min asks softly, not quite meeting your eyes as the two of you straighten out the other half completed canvases which balance precariously on the table. You blink in confusion, causing a tear to roll down your cheek. You reach up and brush it with your fingers. They return wet and tinged with green. You let out a small laugh. “I slept on paint again, didn’t I?” you muse. You and Min are standing at the art studio where you had spent all last night in. Your completed painting stands at the corner and Min walks over to it. Min tries to read what you are thinking, but the other has her head turned away. “You stayed here all night to complete this?” Min inspects the painting closer. It depicts a girl standing shyly in front of a boy against a background of red, pink and purple. The boy had his back towards the observer and he stood with his hands behind him holding a bouquet of flowers. The painting showed an innocent love between the two but when Min squinted her eyes, you noticed two circles that were put on the back of the coat the boy was wearing. Min raises an eyebrow and points it out to you. “Are those bullet holes?” You in the meantime had stood hypnotized in front of the painting. A strange feeling is stirring in your heart as you look at what you had painted. It brought forth the memory of Baekhyun standing in front of you with flowers after their first date. It led to the memory of your first shy kiss after. It made you remember the pain you felt from your dream. Another tear perches at the corner of your eye and you turn to brush it angrily away. Min is still standing in front of you, now watching you with concern. She could guess why you are crying and trying so hard to mask it. You had only ever shed tears for one person and this painting brought back the reminder that this person was no longer around you. “I’m not sure what that is,” you laughs nervously, “It was quite late last night. My mind does weird things when I am sleep deprived.” Without further explanation, you grab your bag and head out before any other memory can shake you. “I’m going home to shower,” you say without looking back, “Sorry about the mess of the studio. I’ll be back later to clean it.” Your last words choke and you escape before Min can see the tears that fall consciously down your cheeks this time.

...

3. 2. 1. Boom. Making the entrance of the century, the three horses gallop into the square where the three beings are strapped on. White. The stallion neighs and throws his head back, unsure of where to go next. But a loud snap makes it head to the right and it brings its hooves down on the ground. Its rider’s body has been punctured with holes and the smell that emits from it is horrendous. For the first horsemen is called Pestilence. Red. Its mane has been dipped in the blood of its enemy. It limps as the giant beast follows in step behind the stallion, a battle scar from its recent fight. His rider flails at a sharp right turn, causing the spear attached at the arm to clash with the helmet. For the second horsemen is called War. Black. The man is but naked, showing his skin pulled taut over the ribcage and bones. He carries the pair of scales with his stomach plastered on one end and the other tipped with bread. For the third horsemen is Famine, but this man can no longer fill his hunger seated upon the black horse. There is a final horseman. The fourth’s name is Death. But why does it need to exist, when it is so very much alive in the other three? Excerpt: Written - Three Horsemen Everything from his desk was moved into the presentation room that allowed him more space to work. Papers of the current case overlap with the papers from the older file. They are grouped in a way only the creator can understand and it is Jimin who stands before it. Picking at his lips with a hand, his foot taps rhythmically on the floor as he continues to scan what he has laid out in front of him. He knew something had been bothering him since he returned from the morgue. Now it was clear. He had remembered a case he had taken part of when he had been temporarily stationed in Los Angelos. The case had remained unsolved but the victim was similar to his Jane Doe. In that case, the man had TH3C scratched into the inner part of his cheek. Matching the picture he had taken earlier to the picture in the old file, they were even scratched in the same place. After digging around a little more, he found two other cases that were similar. It could be coincidence but if they were all related, this was not a simple kill any longer. They had a serial killer in their hands. However there is trouble with the cases. Besides the one he is holding, the other three are from Los Angeles. He technically no longer had any jurisdiction over them. Jimin was contemplating on calling up his colleague when his own phone interrupts his thought process. He answers the phone promptly. “Hello?” “Jimin?” your timid voice reaches his ears. His name uttered from you relaxes his tense shoulders. “Hey. What’s up?” He can hear shuffling from your side as you think about what to say. “I just wanted to call and see if you were okay. You didn’t return home last night.” “I went home for a bit but was called out pretty early for a case this morning. Wait, how did you know I didn’t go home?” “Ah… Well, I’m standing in front of your place right now.” “Why are you doing that?” He can basically hear your body language through the phone. You are gnawing on the inside of you cheek and probably tugging at your shirt, a habit you had when you were nervous. “I forgot my keys again. I thought that you might be home and I could use your shower.” Laughing at how sheepish your voice is, he says to you, “That tells me you slept over at the studio again. And very likely have paint on your face.” “Hey!” you huff, “I don’t wake up with paint on my face every single time!” “But you did this time, didn’t you?” he continues teasing you. You mutter something unintelligible, causing him to laugh at you again. “Unfortunately, I can’t step out of the office but if you don’t mind stopping over, I’ll hand you my keys.” You agree to his proposal and tell him that you’ll be there in twenty. Once their call ends, he chuckles silently to himself. You never seemed to change. When he and Baekhyun were roommates, there were multiple times he’d return home and find you standing outside their flat. You would tell him the same story of how you forgot your keys and of whether you could wash up at their place. And each and every time you would have a blotch of paint on you face where you had fallen asleep at the studio. He had teasingly got you face wash in a paint bottle for your birthday a long time ago as a joke. The last time he went over to your place, he had seen it standing in your room. His mind continues to wander to memories of his college days with Baekhyun and you until he is interrupted by Namjoon. “Whoah. What do you have going on here?” he asks, stepping towards the multitude of papers. Jimin takes this break to grab himself a new cup of coffee as the one sitting to the side had long since turned cold. “I was at the morgue earlier and discovered something strange. It reminded me of an old case,” he told Namjoon. Namjoon flipped through a couple of the pages but he was not as patient as Jimin to read through all the details. He scrunched up his nose and breezed past Jimin again. “I wanted to tell you we have a name for our Jane Doe,” Namjoon said, leaning against the doorframe. He is actually quite impressed at what Jimin has discovered in the span of the short time since they discovered the body this morning. Generally, he was impressed with how fast the department had gathered information. Perhaps as this was their biggest case in a while, the team as a whole was interested in solving it as soon as they can. “Sara Michel,” Namjoon continues on, “Female. 25. From Los Angeles. She’s a fine arts curator. She was in town for a meeting with the local museum about transferring a couple of new sculptures over. It’s been confirmed that the room we found her in this morning is the room her company booked for her while she was town.” “Los Angeles,” Jimin repeats. His eyes dart to the papers. Again, their neighbouring city is mentioned. “Yeah. What of it?” Namjoon picks up on Jimin’s sudden interest. He watches as the other walks over to the piles of paper and brings up a folder. “The old case I was talking about,” Jimin says, “It was from when I worked in LA last summer. A bit unusual that Ms. Michel is from there, don’t you think?” Namjoon scratches his chin. “Well, LA is a big city. And we’re only a train ride away….” Jimin shakes his head. “I don’t like it. Something weird is going on here.” Somebody outside the room yells out for Namjoon. He groans and Jimin throws him a sympathetic look. Jimin never told Namjoon, but before Namjoon was offered the promotion as lieutenant, Jimin had been approached by the captain. He had declined the position as he knew all the responsibilities that came with the new role. Besides, he enjoyed working as a detective; it allowed him hands-on access to all cases. “I’ll keep you updated on anything else I find,” Namjoon says as he turns to leave. Jimin replies, “Same here.” “Alright, well see you around. If I don’t get lost amongst all the conferences I have to start pulling…” his voice trails off as he exits with a dejected curve of his back.

...

“Hi,” your voice interrupts his nap. After Namjoon had left, Jimin had sat down at the desk fully planning to do some more research. However, his fatigue got the better of him and he ended up dozing off. He rubs his eyes sleepily and rises to greet you. You urge him to sit back down. You may have spent the night at the studio, but you looked more put together than he was. Dressed in the first pair of jeans he could find and an old tshirt, he was in a contrast to your outfit. You wore a pair of black and white polka-dotted overall shorts that you paired with a slim fit quarter sleeved shirt inside. A necklace hung around your neck, and you had thrown your hair into a messy bun. Tendrils of hair had fallen out, but it framed your face giving you an overall effortless but fresh look. Walking up to him, you sit gently at the edge of the table while he remains seated to your side. He gently reaches up and smudges the shadow of green paint on your face. “What a way to greet me,” you pout. He smiles at you, then yawns and stretches. Remembering why you had arrived, he rummages through his pocket and retrieves the key to his apartment for you. You thanked him for it and then rotate in your spot to take in the entire room. You were similar in this way, where the two of you had an eye for minute details. It intrigues you to see the pictures that had been laid out. It is true that they are morbid but being around Jimin all these years had made you accustomed to seeing images of a crime scene. “Are you going to be coming home tonight?” you ask him. Your back is still turned towards him as you walk up and study a picture up close. He walks up to you and stands behind. You were looking at the picture of the markings on one of the victims. “TH3C,” you whisper. “No,” his voice rumbles from behind you, “This case is pretty big. I’ll most likely be spending the night here.” You spin in your spot to face him again and your noses nearly touch. He stumbles and takes a step back at the close proximity. A frown starts to crease your forehead and you nervously chews on your fingernail. “What is it?” he sighs. It takes him a moment to gather himself while the scent of you lingers around him. “I feel bad that I’m barging into your place again,” you mumble, “What if I bring you dinner tonight?” “There’s no need. I’ll order take out from nearby. Besides, you’re always welcome at my place. It’s not a bother.” “Jimin…” He sighs, defeated. “Sure. I’ll wait for your meal.” You delightedly clap your hands together. “Perfect! I’ll make your favourite dish tonight! How does carbonara sound?” Nodding he feels the usual smile that appears around you on his face. It was strange. Before you came, he had nearly fainted with tiredness but now that you were here, it was like you had transferred you energy to him. “I’ll see you again tonight, then!” you quip animatedly. Taking his keys off the desk and into your pocket, you makes your way towards the door before stopping again. “TH,” you begin, “It makes me think of Three Horsemen.” “What’s that?” he asks you, distracted by the thought of delicious homemade food. “Three Horsemen. Remember the novel I was reading? It was just a random thought. And then maybe the number three for the third one? I don’t know what “C” would mean though. Perhaps it’s the horsemen from set C,” you continue to ramble on. You notice that Jimin is now staring at you with an intense gaze. You wave your hand in front of you, as if the simple action would cause you thoughts to magically disappear as well. “Forget what I said. I’m an artist,” you laugh nervously, “Besides if it was a set C, there would be a set B and A. And that would make… nine total kills. My mind is just overactive with the books I’m reading.” Jimin laughs nervously along with you. But inside, he mentally makes a note to investigate the possibility of what you have said, however miniscule that may be. You thank him once again for his hospitality and wave him good bye. When he is left alone again, he sinks back into his seat. It makes his bottom ache as he had been seated for a while, so he paces the room. Three Horsemen – Third Horsemen – Set C. TH3C. It wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion to draw. It was scary to imagine though. Eight other victims that were not found. His thoughts are interrupted once again when the phone in the room rings. Namjoon is on the other end when Jimin picks up. “We found a witness.”

...

next part

[gamer-logic]

The States and 2P America

So the 2ps get to the 1p world after making a truce with their counterparts and escaping their collapsing world where they're the only survivors. They then proceed to live with their 1ps in a crazy roommate sort-of situation. The only problem is that when Allen gets to Alfred's house it's this huge mansion and one of the states opens the door making him very confused as he never had states of his own and his idiotic 1p is the father of 50 kids!

"What the *beep* Porkchop?! Since do you have fifty little brats runnin’ around?!"

Alfred gives him a full rundown on finding/raising the states and then proceeds to draft him into babysitting! At first, Allen tried to ignore them but then faces the painful realization that leaving 50 states alone is never a good idea. After finally rounding up everyone he could find and freeing the thirteen (most responsible being Delaware and Virginia) from being trapped in the barn by their younger siblings, he does a headcount.

Allen: Okay one, two, three.....45. We're missing five! Where's Nevada, Hawaii, Alaska, Texas, and New Mexico?

Random state raises their hand: I think Nevada's in Vegas gambling again. He goes there a lot to triple his allowance!

Another state: I remember Texas said something about rodeos and bull riding all the way to Dallas. Also, Alaska and Hawaii left a note saying something about hanging out with New Mexico and Tony in Roswell!

Allen: But we're in D.C.! How did they get all the way over there in 3 hours?! *States shrug while Allen looks close to screaming into the void* Okay, everyone into the bus! We're going to get your siblings!

Cue cross country road-trip like the hangover where, after hours of getting lost in Disney Land, Delaware’s nagging about being the oldest and most mature much to Massachusetts chagrin because he’s clearly got better colleges, getting into a dance contest in Maine, keeping Arizona from getting stuck in the Grand Canyon for the hundredth time, Wisconsin participating in a cheese eating contest, Maine cooking seafood, Georgia making 30 peach cobblers, Colorado making a giant igloo, Washington and Oregon's hippie phases making a return, playing hockey in Minnesota, fishing Michigan out of the great lakes, New Jersey getting stalked by the Jersey Devil who’s like that stray cat that keeps following you around, keeping New York from starting a fight at Yankee’s game, gator wrestling in the Florida everglades, getting dressed for Mardi Gras in Lousianna, getting lost in Iowa’s biggest corn maze, the Dakota twins almost killing the Carolinas for trying to graffiti Mt. Rushmore (there’s a bit of a twin rivalry), avoiding the secret service less they get caught and ratted out to Alfred, seeing Old Faithful at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming and trying to keep Alabama from sticking his head in it on a dare, crossing the Mississippi, running from rodeo clowns that Tennessee angered after he picked a fight with them for insulting his country music, finally picking up Texas with his new Rodeo bull-riding championship belt and tying him up with his own lasso, various misadventures, including recuing Idaho from an accidental marriage, in Vegas that will stay in Vegas, finding/grounding Nevada from gambling after he almost lost 50 grand and Wyoming to a circus, they finally arrive in Roswell.

Allen, too tired to care at this point: Alright! Who's this Tony New Mexico, Hawaii, and Alaska said they we're with?

Maryland: He's Dad's cool alien friend from 1947. New Mexico likes hanging out with him in his spaceship playing pranks on Britain and the other nations!

Allen hardly believes her but is too tired to care at this point: A-Alien? Sure, why not?! Let’s just go get them! Maybe we’ll run into Nessie too!

Iowa whispering to Ohio: But isn’t Nessie in Scotland?

Ohio: *shrugs*

After falling into a series of booby traps a la Alaska, they finally track down Tony’s ship in Alaska and find the three playing video games with Tony. It finally registers in Allen’s mind that there’s a real freakin’ alien in front of him playing Mario Kart.

Allen: T-t-that’s an….

State: Yep!

Allen: And he’s playing video games….

States: Yep!

Allen, not able to handle this anymore: *faints*

After a not so long drive back to D.C. courtesy of New Jersey’s driving, Getting KFC in Kentucky for supper with vegan salad for Allen and irritating said state in the process, and almost forgetting Rhode Island, they finally make it bake to D.C. and settle Allen down on the couch, gathering around him to watch a Marvel marathon acting like the innocent little angels they’re not. They also duct tape California’s mouth shut and tie her up with Texas’ lasso because she wouldn’t stop complaining about watching her newest one instead. Alfred finally arrives home from a meeting in Berlin around the time they finish Doctor Strange and sees Allen crashed on the couch with the states around him.

Alfred: So did you have a good time with Uncle Allen?

States: We sure did!

Wisconsin bragging about his trophy made entirely of cheese: I’m the king of cheese once again!

Alfred: Great! Now it’s off to bed everyone!

States: Aww! But we wanted to stay up and play with Uncle Allen!

Alfred: No buts, you can play again tomorrow! Now off to bed!

The states start trudging up to their rooms with California finally being freed. Georgia putting a blanket over Allen, Hawaii putting a hibiscus print pillow under his head, and Maryland putting a note on the end table as they go out. Allen finally wakes up and Alfred, watching the rest of the marathon notices.

Alfred: You were awesome with them dude! I’m going to let you babysit from now on!

Allen: *Screams and faints again*

Alfred: Heh! He’s so excited! *Munches on popcorn*

The next morning Allen wakes up and reads the note: “Thanks for taking care of all of us today! We had a lot of fun, Uncle Allen! From the states. P.S. You were super cool playing baseball at Yankee stadium! Teach us sometime? Also, there's a salad for you in the fridge! :)"

He crumbles the note and puts it in his jacket trying not to break his tough-guy persona. But later when no one looking, he takes it out with a small smile and thinks these brats aren’t so bad after all.

Eventually, they grew on him and Allen comes to consider the all the states like his own secretly loving it when they call him Uncle Allen. They may be little gremlins but his gremlins and if you so much as touch one hair on their head you’ll get a face full of his nailed bat!

Just another day in the Jones’ household!

Meanwhile In Canada:

James is babysitting the provinces for Mathew and is currently in drill sergeant mode pacing in front of the nervous, with the exception of Quebec who's extremely excited, lined-up provinces. Kumajiro (cub) and Kuma (adult) are just chilling and watching them with whistles around their necks and cute little maple leaf hats courtesy of British Columbia.

James: All right, listen up! I’m going to teach you all how to rough it and survive out in the wilderness! Now, who knows how to start a fire?

All the provinces turn to stare at Manitoba.

Manitoba: Oh, come on! I set fire to Papa’s flannel shirt collection one time!

James: Okaaaaay ignoring that, everybody get into groups of two and I’ll assign jobs!

Nova Scotia raises her hand: But there’s thirteen of us!

James: Fine then, eenie meenie miny mo… *Points to Prince Edward Island* you! Prissy pants boy you're with me! We’re gathering firewood!

P.E.I. looking up from his mirror: Excuse me!? I’m not gonna get these designer clothes dirty picking up filthy wood!

James *facepalms*: Give me that! *Proceeds to chuck the mirror into the lake much to P.E.I’s horror and Ontario’s glee!*

(They don't get along because of P.E.I.’s arrogant personality and constant declaring himself in charge despite Ontario being the oldest and having the capital).

James: We’re out here to survive off the land which means no cell phones, no internet, and definitely NO BEAUTY PRODUCTS. NOW IS THAT CLEAR?!

Provinces: Sir, yes sir!

James being the big softie that he is but won't admit: Good! Now we meet back here by sunset and we’ll roast marshmallows!

Everyone hurries and gets on with their jobs with Alberta somehow ending up stuck in a tree and harassed by woodpeckers and Yukon and Saskatchewan being the most successful by communicating with/befriending a family of beavers that help them build a shelter. By the end of the day, James also feels a sense of fatherly protectiveness and pride over the provinces like Allen. he also secretly loves it when they call him Uncle James. Nunavut also manages to find bigfoot who helps gather food much to James’ shock!